This is a story written a year ago, as a miniature in-class project. I extended it a bit to make it better, and this would be in our future magazine, but that will certainly be a while before anything is done. For now, I just want you all have a beautiful Christmas, and I hope you enjoy my story.
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It was the night of the Christmas Eve, and Little Timmy’s house was surrounded by a cozy, warm atmosphere. Looking out of the window, a well-lit little town could be seen, with flashing lights and an eight-foot tall Christmas tree on public display. The whole blizzard-struck area was blanketed with a sense of festivity.
Timothy Paul was eight years old now. Living eight years meant a lot for Timmy, for he had made a pinky promise with Dad, that he could do the Christmas decoration all by himself. It was a big deal for him, as the opportunity finally came. Looking over at the corner of the living room, Timmy’s eyes lay on the bags of decorations bought as he and Mother went down the mountains, into the streets, and into the Christmas markets two weeks ago. All of them were picked out by Timmy himself: A few wraps of tinsels in various colors, some ornaments made of glass that Mom warned him to beware not to drop, a star with glittery paste that would be the essential for such a holiday season, and of course, one of his favorites, several pieces of handmade Nutcracker adornments that came from Dad’s carving shop in town. His father knew Timmy had an odd fondness for this character when he told his son how the little piece of wood turned to life, into little soldiers who guarded the happy dreams of children. “I made a few extra for you, my little boy.” His father’s voice echoed in his ear, a voice vibrating with warmth and unconditional love.
His baby sister, Holly -a very festive name for his baby sister- was sleeping soundly in her beige wooden crib. There were some Santa Claus stickers, which were given by Timmy just that morning, stuck on the barrels of the crib. Her small hands were holding on to her teddy bear, the smile still apparent on her small, chubby face as if she was having a joyous adventure in her dreams.
The Christmas tree was right over there, mere meters from the red-bricked fireplace. It was a pine tree, also picked out by himself when he went to the forests with Dad.
Little Timmy didn’t want to keep the Christmas tree waiting.
He first chose a strap of blue tinsels. He unwrapped it, while at the same time he was already thinking what he should put up next.
It didn’t turn out quite well. Timmy tripped over, on a loose string of tinsels. A thump groaned on the floor as he fell; he tried to wriggle out of the snakey strings that were all over him at this point, only to find out he had tied himself up. He tried pulling himself up but ended up meeting the floor face to face once again.
“I’m doing it all by myself!” His own voice, boasting and adamant rung in his ears as tears welled up in his eyes. He can’t!
“I can’t!” He wailed as his dad who had already rushed down when he heard the commotion downstairs. His mother haphazardly placed all her bottles of seasonings and threw the spatula into the sink as she turned to see her baby boy hollering on the floor. Holly, the youngest in the house, was also forced to leave the realm of teddy bears and dreams as the accident unfolded. She also cried aloud, upset that she was awakened by her careless big brother.
Dad carefully extricated Timmy (who was still sobbing with tears dribbling) from the blue fuzzy “trap” as Mom was pacifying Holly, slowly coaxing her to halt her crying with the lullaby she knew by heart.
When all things were taken care of, the three of them sat on the white furry sofa, with Holly still on Mom’s laps.
“Timmy, I know you have been looking forward to decorating this tree,” Dad started. “but wouldn’t it be nice if we all do it together?” Timmy looked up at his father, then to his mother, with still red, puffy eyes that looked like what a bunny would have. Then he gave a slight nod, with a half of a smile.
Five minutes later, Little Timmy was wrapping the lower parts of the tree with the same blue tinsels as his father helped him with the upper parts of it. Mom was holding Holly with one arm but still managed to hang up the glass-made adornments with care as Holly was pointing up and down on the tree, instructing Mommy where to hang the next glass ball. Timmy then took out four of the five delicately painted soldier nutcrackers and hung them up at the most obvious places on the tree. The one left, he decided to put it next to his bed, giving it the responsibility to guard his dreams. As for the star, his father brought out the high ladder that was in the storage. Dad held the base of the ladders, ordering Timmy to climb to the top and put up the last but the most essential piece- the glittering star. Timmy was grateful to still have this opportunity. He climbed up, one step at a time, as Mom looked with intent, worried eyes; as Holly stared with curious amazement, as Dad held the ladder firmly with his bulky arms. Tentatively, Timmy found the highest point of the six-foot tree and carefully put the star on top. It was surely a beautiful Christmas tree.
Out in the freezing cold, snowy night, through the never-ending forest of pine trees, you can see a house, radiating warmth, joy, and a gentle Christmas blessing, as if the snowflakes nor the relentless winds didn’t exist.
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