I’m sitting under THE tree. You know the one. The tree that cats can’t stop attacking. The tree the children had picked out. It had to be this one. The ‘bungie’ one, whatever that means. But all three of the children agreed this tree was the ‘bungie-est’ tree on the lot. The oldest child had brought his ax (that he had gotten last Christmas but hadn’t gotten to use yet this year) He had meticulously cut down the tree. The girls were all sniffling but the oldest wore a thin sheen of perspiration from the exertion of cutting the ‘perfect’ tree down.
As always, it fell to the grown-ups to wrap the lights around the tree that night, after the worn-out children went to sleep. then the little ones would awake to throw tinsel and ornaments onto this glorious tree. As a family tradition, the baby blocks or small toys where given hooks and put on the tree as each child outgrew them. It was also family tradition to sleep on the floor next to the lighted and bedecked tree Christmas eve’s eve.
This was where I came in, I’m the Christmas shadow. I hang out in corners and under furniture waiting all year for this moment. People give too much credit to ‘Santa Claus’. He was a great man with a great heart, but the shadows of each season help spread little miracles around.
A simple thing like tree spotting can be cause for the miracle this year, I’ve decided. The family HAD a fake tree, but this year Mom saw an ad for natural trees that I had let slip out of the newspaper, onto the floor at an opportune moment. She was tidying up the living room and the newspaper in her hand had released the ad at just the right moment. Seeing the trees on the glossy paper, she thought of a much-sought gift that hadn’t had any use over the last year. (the ax) She thought of her own childhood and hot chocolate with tiny marshmallows and cold fingers and noses and doing something as a family.
Mom and Dad bundled the kids into their warmest winter gear with the promise of something special. The children were all a-twitter with questions, but Mom held her peace, until they arrived. The children were confused at first, what was this lot they had arrived at and what were they to do here. At first the girls wanted to play hide-and-seek among the trees. (They were but 8 and 10) The oldest stayed near the adults and just watched the younger ones with a mixture of brotherly love and envy at the childish play.
Mom watched her younger children for a while, then went back to the car and brought out a thermos of hot cocoa and the ax, still shiny and new. The boy’s eyes grew bright and he tentatively reached for his ax. He met his father’s gaze and Dad nodded. Realization made the boy’s eyes even brighter. Mom called the girls over and told them the plan. They were to find the perfect tree and their brother was to cut it down for the family. The 2 girls ran off looking for this ‘bungie’ tree and brother followed slowly, the magnitude of cutting down the family tree making his heart skip a beat, he had a surreal look on his face. A look of determination and duty and love for his family. Mom caught a glimpse of the man, the boy would become, and she too was proud.
Mom looked at dad and saw that he was proud of his children too. He looked up at the sky and the bright stars were witness to the Christmas miracle of Johnny’s first tree.
My job was done. And all it took was making a paper ad flip out of a stack of papers at the right time. Santa brought presents to needy children in the 1400’s or something, but I brought Johnny a little closer to manhood, and Johnny’s family a little closer.
Words from inside my head 