A Christmas Tree in the Window

A Story by William Teague

Very short story.

The tree stood proud and strong. It’s an amazing tree thought the little boy. He held his little sisters hand as she whispered, “Do you think Santa will like it?”

“Of course he will.” replied the boy.

Decorated with old unique ornaments, the tree displays handmade balls of jeweled beads and satin. A tree, the kind Dad always carefully picked and brought home. Not a dense bushy tree but an old fashioned airy and spacious tree; a tree with a large wingspan which held plenty of room between the boughs. The Lionel train roars as it circles around the white felt base, blasting its whistle and spouting steam through its stack. Glistening against the artificial fireplace that pretends to crackle and emanate a clean smokey aroma mingled with the fragrant pine. With garland set deep and nearer the trunk, the lights strung with precision, the kind that looks like little candles with bubbling water inside them. Tinsel was hung with patience, one strand at a time, just the way Grandma had always insisted. At center, is the handmade manger with the empty cradle awaiting the baby Jesus. A village is scattered throughout the hills and valleys created by the tree skirt. As the lights blinked on and off, their dappled reflections would sprinkle and fall onto all the carefully wrapped presents. Peeking out from a corner behind the tree is a sled - the kind the boy always wanted. On the other end is the bicycle his sister dreamed of.

The children could see their reflections along with Mom by their side in the window and thought of Grandma baking cookies and making cocoa every Christmas Eve. ‘Silver Bells’ played as the snow began to fall outside. The mother gently grabbed both children’s hands and softly said, “C’mon guys, it’s time to go.”, as she whisked them away from the store’s display.

Later on, they all sat on one bed and the mother said, “I’m sorry about Christmas this year. “ The little girl whispered, “We shouldn’t be sorry about Christmas, Mom.”, as she looked upwards. Then the boy said, “Jesus, Mary and Joseph were homeless too, Mom.”

With tears in her eyes, she held the two close and tight in her arms, then closed her eyes and prayed, as the tears rolled out and onto the little ones’ heads.

By William Teague, 7-2012