The news came in waves that day and did not stop as night fell.
Their parents were gone. The police had come and the drugs been found and the cuffs put on. Christine knew her parents would not be coming back for some time. They hadn’t been bad parents except when they had to spend too much time being sick or sleeping. Christine was twelve and knew how to handle the house, the food, the wash and even the garbage. It was her brother who was difficult.
Tommy was six and did not understand any of it. Not Mom and Dad being gone, not the police leaving them there alone so some social worker could come who never came. Tommy only knew it was Christmas the next day and that they had no tree. He didn’t even want a present. He wanted a Christmas tree. Christine put him to bed on Christmas Eve with no tree. He didn’t cry. He was brave. She sat with him until he was asleep, and she did cry. Quietly, so as not to awaken her brother. She knew that Christmas was coming but more trouble would also be coming with it. The police would not let them live alone and there was nobody else. Eventually they’d come back and then she and Tommy might be separated. But that was to be worried about when they came back. With what little money she’d had the day before, stolen from her dad’s pockets before he passed out, she’d been to the Dollar Store and brought back some silly gifts for Tommy. The wrapping paper still lay on the floor of the dining room where she’d cut and taped some for the tiny packages.
Christine’s Paper Christmas Tree
Christine got up and went to the dining room, wondering if it was worth it to clean up the mess from her wrapping work. She decided it was, as usual. She went to work, wiping away her tears and throwing herself into cleaning up the house in preparation for what might come next, and for Christmas. When she was about to pack away the wrapping paper she notice there were other unused rolls in the box. Suddenly, a thought occurred to her. She had paper, tape, ribbons, glue and scissors. She went to work.
She tried to work with the foil paper but nothing would stick right. Disappointed, she got up and went to check on her brother. The boy was sleeping as he’d been before. So relaxed and so unworried. Christine so wanted him to remain that way. She decided to give the paper another try. She went into the living room but the only paper there was an old book about the proverbs or something. She picked it up and examined the pages.
She went to work again, this time by carefully cutting the pages from the book and setting them aside. The living room wall was made of gray wood. She sized it up. The wall would do. She removed some picture frames and made a clean working space. She cut and pasted the pages before applying them to the wall to form the shape of a Christmas tree. It took her hours but, when she stood back, the paper pages resembled a Christmas tree, if you used a bit of your imagination. Her brother had a lot of imagination, Christine knew, but did he have enough?
After cleaning up as best she could Christine assembled the small gifts she’d gotten for Tommy and then went to bed herself. Tommy woke her while it was till dark to tell her that it was Christmas. Then he ran off to the living room. Christine tried to go back to sleep but the “Tommy noise” from the other room was just too great. She got up.
When she got to the living room Tommy was dancing around the base of Christine’s paper tree.
“Santa came and he brought me a special tree,” the boy was singing.
Tommy’s carrying on was infectious. She sat down and waited for him to join her. Slowly he opened each gift, unwrapping them one after another very carefully, to save the ribbon and paper for later use. His joy at finding a ball of rubber bands, a set of magic markers, a small pocket knife and a Christmas disk of music made Christine laugh with her own joy.
Tommy made her put the disk on the little player they had. The music played. Christine read the list of songs and waited for just the write moment. She went into the bedroom and pulled a bag from under her bed. When the music started to play the song she handed the special unwrapped gift to the little boy.
The one song’s lyrics started after a short introductory.
“Come, they told me, Pa rum pum pum pum. Our new born king to see,
Pa rum pum pum pum. Our finest gifts we bring. Pa rum pum pum pum”.
Tommy pulled the second hand tattered drum his sister had purchased from the Thrift Inn the day before. He sat down next to the disk player and began to play. “Just like the song,” he said, playing in terrible accompaniment.
“Yes, just like the song,” Christine replied, unable to contain her smile and then full throated laughing.
It was Christmas, and she and Tommy would face it, live it and love it together.
James, I am late to the party, but had the same reaction as your first poster – Marshall Gage.
The tale touches my soul, and I thank you for writing it, and for putting it where I could read and appreciate it.
Fiction or non-fiction, a tale of hope, promise, and love.
Thanks for liking this little story…about reality, of course…and thanks for the compliment and your putting it up on here…
Semper fi,
Jim
Jim,
This was my first foray into your fiction writing (or maybe it wasn’t fiction…), having been following your 30 days saga. When I finished it, I just sat there with this stupid big grin and tears in my eyes. I was proud of Christine and I was proud of you. It takes talent to bring grown men to tears and stupid smiles.
Merry Christmas Jim.
Marshall
Now what a great compliment that is, Marshall and I cannot thank you enough for putting it up on here.
It was and is my pleasure to have ‘reached’ you on that emotional level…proving you are a damned fine man too…
Semper fi,
Jim
James-Nice story, and a great song from that group. I’ve been following your 30 Days series, bought the first 10 days book, always watching closely for the next episode to see how you escaped that impossible mission In the Ashau Valley.
Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!
Thanks Don, much appreciate the following and the compliment that that indicates…
Semper fi,
Jim
A tear to the eye kinda short story. Well done once again.
Thanks Richie….helping me write tonight…
Semper fi,
Jim
Jim another great short story. I have read every chapter of your 30 Days books so far and anxiously look forward to each new chapter. Your short stories are always so touching and this one and the one with the boy in the window we’ll have brought me to tears.Great writing by a great writer. Thank you!
Thanks Chuck, and yes some of those stories, all of which have some reality as their foundation.
How else to reach such an emotional level…
Semper fi,
Jim
Just want to let you know,I bought the first 30 days book and read it in two days. I was able to read the 2nd ten days on line and I will be purchasing it when it is out in print edition. Looking forward to the last 10 days as well and will do the same when that book is published. Thank you and all the rest that served.
Thank you, Chuck,
Coming to print very soon
Wow! From 30 Day to Arch Adventures and your short stories I’ve come to follow you continually open up a flood gate of emotions from the past it seams I’ve tried very hard to suppress. You have caused me to rethink so many experiences in life. Your ability to relate real life experiences into living words is beyond imagination. You have certainly caused me to realize how cold my heart was becoming towards humanity as a whole. I think it was Christmas Eve a year ago when I first became aware of you as an author (30 Days). You’ve caused me to shed more tears in the past year than I’ve shed in the past 20 years. Not going to try to explain that. Just keep it coming. You are a “Master” (in my book) of relating to real life experiences to the surface. Curious, how are things going with the new feline friend? Must be some new adventures by now! Semper Fi Jim
Well. I am struck. By your writing and by your recitation of life, some redemption,
and full recovery.
You are something else Jack and your revelations on here are not only well written,
but so damned poignant that I could not fashion a response for a few hours after reading.
Thank you seems a pretty weak word.
Man oh, man…
Thanks from the bottom of my heart.
You think of me, and express feelings about my work that I don’t feel I can actually fully internalize.
Semper fi,
Jim
This short story just exemplifies your writing talent sir thank you. This story could be in Kalihi or Kalamazoo.
Looking forward to the next installment of 30 Days.
Thanks for another gut getter , James . Wishing you and yours’ A Merry Christmas Semper Fi borther .
Thanks Russel and Merry Christmas to you and your own this season too…
Semper fi, and thanks for the compliment…
Jim
I marvel at your writing style. It carries the story well, with a light undercurrent of sarcasm. I have read you1st ten days and both Arch Patten novels and am waiting for your 2nd ten days. Please keep it up!
Steve W.
RVN ‘67- ‘68
Happy Tet ( not so much).
Thank you, Steve,
Appreciate all the support from readers such as yourself.
Semper fi,
Jim
What a wonderful story Jim. You just never disappoint me. This short story is an early Christmas present, thank you. Looking forward to “The Second Ten Days”.
Thanks Walt. The book will be out soon. Edited now and only the cover and
the putting it together remain.
Semper fi, my friend…
Jim
Jim, I’ve been reading your 30 Days Has September and I decided to give your short stories a try. I am a veteran too, a Vietnam-ERA vet (AF). I served elsewhere at the tail end of that conflict and while I am reading what you experienced there, I didn’t feel right in posting to that. I believe it is reserved for those that experienced that hell. This story though brought me to tears just now. I was a cop for 20 years after the service, having worked many a Christmas. Even today, retired for a long time, I don’t particularly like Christmas because of all the heartache I saw during the holidays while working. It’s really only since my grandson was born a few years ago that I look forward to the holiday. It was sometimes hard to be “up” for my kids when they were children. In particular, my last Christmas as a cop was the worst of them all, I was the watch sergeant and having to supervise baby cops on a suicide attempt at the beginning of watch, family fights and drunks during the day and a suicide at the end of watch, all on Christmas Day. This story though reminded me of the few times we were able to make a small difference in a family’s life during the holidays and how appreciative the children and grateful the parents were. Thank you.
Thanks Mark. Cops see shit and have to shit in the field. It’s not Vietnam, no, but it sure as hell can
be on occasion. Having been a cop too at one point. I was told by a shrink, after a few years that I was really a lousy cop
because after Vietnam I would not shoot anybody that needed to be shot, thereby endangering the citizenry and not doing my
job to protect them. The shrink had my military record. I could have sat there and told here the story about “thirty days” and maybe
convinced her that I must just be capable of killing people who needed to die, or even maybe who didn’t need to die, but I could not
at that time do that. I just remained silent, accepted her conclusion, and was fired once again. My medal of valor from the
State of California, like my Vietnam medals for valor, meant exactly nothing.
Thanks for your comment and for liking my story.
It’s all about heart, now that I can have a heart again…
Semper fi,
Jim