by Michele Carroll

Created on: December 24, 2008

Under the Christmas Tree

I can't think of a better place to be than lying in front of the Christmas tree on Christmas Eve. I lay with my head underneath the branches looking up. When I squint my eyes the twinkly lights become swirly orbs of color: red, green, blue, gold and purple.

I breath in the piney fragrance that says "Christmas" like nothing else does and close my eyes. When I open them I spay a dark spot among the branches and reach up to adjust alight on the branch.

There is my favorite ornament hanging above me. It's hand blown glass from Germany and hand painted in a beautiful blue satin paint on one side, shiny gold on the other. It has a skier flying down a slope and is rimmed in gold glitter. Actually, it's one of a set of four but only three are left because the cat broke one yesterday. I search out some other ones, doing their yearly job, hanging among the branches. There's the moose with his red and white striped scarf, and the tired old paper angel. She's losing her hair, but I don't have the heart not to hang her on each year. A faceted star slowly spins, catching the twinkly lights. Way at the top is the lighted angel, holding her candle aloft.

I turn my attention to the Nativity underneath. I rearrange the little wooden figures for about the hundredth time. These figures are very old. Older than me. My fingers caress their intricate carving and delicately painted details. There are the three wise men, Joseph and Mary, two shepherds, a cow, a sheep, and a camel. Attached on the roof is the angel. The baby Jesus is missing, but he'll make his appearance tomorrow.

Suddenly the tree trembles and makes a tinkling sound as the ornaments stir back and forth. The cat! She's trying to climb up the trunk. I abandon my post and reach in through the sharp branches.

"Cleo, you bad cat! Get off there!" I am able to pull her out before disaster strikes. I have a soft spot for Cleo though and cuddle her to me, burying my face in her soft, warm black fur. She begins to purr and licks my nose with her raspy pink tongue.

My thoughts turn back to the tree and what surprises will be underneath in the morning. Maybe that special doll with the velvet dress and the carrying case.

I hear the squeak of the oven door as Mom opens it. The aroma of Toll House cookies fills the air. Maybe she needs some help, so I get up off the floor and go to the kitchen. It feels really warm in here. "Silent Night" is playing softly on the radio.

She lets me sample one of the warm cookies. I bite into hot gooey chocolate chips, and chunky walnuts encased in a brown sugar dough, baked nice and soft. Delicious! Santa will love these.

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