A View From The Tree
by Leslie Johnson
“Whoopsie Daisy! OOH! Deep breath! Deep breath. I love the roller coaster!”
“It’s not a roller coaster, you idiot.” Green Ball shouted down to me. “Mr. Davidson is moving us out of the garage.”
“Really? Wow! That means it’s almost Christmas - the most magical time of year! Whoo hoo! Oops - bumpy ride - bumpy ride. Steady as she goes, Mr. Davidson - steady now! Are we down?”
“Everybody, quick! Close your eyes!” Gold Ball barked. PPOPP! The lid to our plastic tote pulled away and light streamed into our darkness. “Slowly, now. Open your eyes. Blink - blink!”
“Wow - they’ve painted the living room since last year. I like that colour - what would you call it? Buttered Rum? Nice and look - the alcove is Moroccan Red! They look nice together. I like it. Goes so well with the faux brick wall.” Red Ball exclaimed.
“I can’t see anything - what is buttered rum?” I shouted from my place near the bottom of the tote.
“There’s the tree.” Red Bulb continued. “Gosh it’s a beauty - so full and lush. Breathe deep guys - that’s pine - isn’t it nice. The Davidsons never go with artificial - they love the real thing.”
“Would you shut up! You’d think none of us had been here before - but we have. We’ve all been here. We don’t need the commentary.” Green Ball snapped.
“Good grief, Where is your Christmas Spirit?” Gold Ball demanded. “Lighten up or you’ll be at the back of the tree where no one can see and admire you.”
The tote fell silent for a minute. “Look, the lights are on. It’s that pretty? Red Ball was back to her commentary.
“Okay, here comes Mrs. Davidson. Get ready people. It’s our turn.” Gold Ball smiled. “Be brave now - there’s plenty of room on this tree for all of us. Whoopsie Daisy!”
And he’s gone. Red goes next then Green. My tote companions disappeared one by one as Mrs. Davidson reached inside and pulled them out into the world and onto the tree. My stomach turned over with anticipation. Who was I going to be near this year? Which way would I face? I surely didn’t want the back view again - the wall. NO one wants the wall. It’s depressing to be back there - you can’t see anything and have to rely on others to tell you what’s going on. Except the cat comes by every once in awhile - she likes to hide in the back corner and bat at the lower ornaments. Bad Kitty!
Most of my fellow decorations are gone. The ribbons, the shiny balls, the hobby horses. I can count six of us now, languishing on the soft bed of cotton that lines the bottom of the tote. That’s when the world goes dark. What the….
“Guess you’re one of us now, Little Popsicle Stick Rudolf.” The half walnut shell with the cotton ball beard chuckled. “You’re no longer good enough to be on the tree.”
I was crushed. After years of hanging in the front near the top, then moving down to the bottom and finally being hung at the back of the tree - this was my destiny. To languish in the bottom of a stupid plastic tote, waiting to be thrown out. It would be better to be discarded! At least then I wouldn’t feel the pain of rejection every year. This was the worst.
We waited for the tote to be moved out of the way - muffled voices reached us but the words were unclear. “Is that Penny’s voice?” I asked, straining hard to hear.
“Don’t know.” said Walnut Santa. “I can’t make out nothing.”
The tote lid was unexpectedly pulled away. I was blinded and quickly shut my eyes. A soft hand scooped me up. “There you are!” said Penelope kindly. “Time to find you a new home. And you and you and you.” The six of us were slipped into a paper sack. We were jostled and jolted for a time before the bag was reopened. Gently Penelope pulled us out and carefully placed us on a small artificial tree. The pretend needles were more ticklish than real ones and they didn’t smell very nice. But the view was terrific.
“This is fantastic!” Walnut Santa said. “I haven’t been hung on a tree for years. I love the view!”
I looked around the room. It was small and nondescript. The furniture was shabby and worn, and there was Penny standing next to a tall, thin man I didn’t know. “See Max! They are lovely. All the little ornaments I made in elementary school. Aren’t they perfect. They are just what the tree needed.” She smiled as the man squeezed her closer.
“I’m glad your mother never tossed them out. They go nicely with the ones I made.”
I looked around, as far as my little bubble eyes would go and hanging to my upper left was a cinnamon stick star. She winked at me! I blushed.
It really is going to be a magical Christmas - isn’t it?
