I rest patiently beneath a mass of emerald pine branches. A few stray prickly pine needles have fallen down and coat me like the light dusting of snow that fell just this morning. I am a Christmas present, and today is my big day. My glistening rosy wrapping paper covered with russet happy reindeer and a pleasantly plump Santa beams, even in the soft dim light of the small living room. The white calendar that rests by the window with an oak frame reads Dec. 25. The tick tick ticking of the clock beats into my head as if a drummer is in the room playing a lengthy solo. The black minute hand gradually edges forward, almost as sluggish as a tiny snail trying to make its way across the vast meadow outside by the house. I fleetingly look out the oak framed window and see that the meadow is serenely covered with snow, like a rich delicious cake frosted with creamy vanilla frosting. As I contentedly gaze out at the colossal field I feel as blissful as a naive child, with absolutely no worries in the world. I feel as free as a bird, soaring high in the early morning sky. The radiant moon, with its half crescent shape, glitters fearlessly with no reservations about waking up the town with its intense illumination. It is almost as if the moon knows that not one single person in the diminutive town is really sleeping, not on this spectacular night at least. This night is truly magnificent, especially for a Christmas present. Each gift only gets a short amount of time of actually being a fully made up present, and you must believe me when I say I am fully made up, compared to what I started out as. Not many chilly wintry weathered days ago I was a lackluster aged cardboard package with ragged dull edges. As I stared out the window however many days ago I must have looked like an eager child, vibrant eyes fixated on the cheery Christmas themed windows of the high-end department stores. I wasn't a joyful child, though; I was just an unsightly monotonous cardboard box. Gawking outside at the tranquil snowflakes fluttering down so delicately I felt completely and utterly our of place in the exquisiteness of the season. I longed so badly to fit in with all the loveliness that surrounded me that my heart panged with immense jealousy. I felt as if I was a green eyed monster, which wholly contrasted with the ecstasy of the time of year. Each day that approached felt like a ticking time bomb, each day was a day closer to Christmas, a day closer to epic disappointment for me.
You can just envision my unreserved astonishment when I felt myself being carried swiftly in a pair of tender hands with elongated red painted nails into a bedroom. It was there that I was gently set down next to a number of other tattered taupe boxes on a downy lilac quilt. The quilt felt soothing and helped calm my nerves that were causing me to feel as if I was springing like a bouncy ball that was being thrown around violently. Suddenly, I felt the top of myself being opened up and vaguely felt an object be cautiously set inside me. The next few moments were a blur of movement, anxiety, and also massive exhilaration. Right when I thought I was starting to feel composed, the used to be gentle hands seized me harshly and started smothering me with rough paper. I heard the sharp swishing of Scotch tape being ripped by the jagged end of the green and black tape dispenser. I felt as if I was spinning as rapid as a flimsy pale snowflake in a tremendous howling blizzard. The slow creaking of a door, possibly a closet, was the only sound that was keeping me in reality right then. My long lasting reverie of going from a tedious cardboard box to an eye-catching, impressive Christmas present was honestly coming true right then and there. I felt like a monarch butterfly, starting out as a nothing out of the ordinary caterpillar, but transforming into an attractive, incredible wonder. Happiness filled my soul, so much bliss that I felt like it might overflow out of me like a cascading waterfall that goes for miles upon miles. Then came the darkness that stopped the waterfall of bliss right in its tracks. I could feel myself being lifted up far above the comfortable bed and set down on a rigid top shelf of what appeared to be a smaller than I would prefer closet. The sound of other boxes being thrown around, having various items stored in them and then wrapped promptly gave me hope that I wouldn't be stuck in this elf sized closet forever. Several days must have passed and I strongly desired to see the hushed meadow in all its snow covered glory.
Thankfully my wishes were granted when just this morning I was removed from the tiny closet by that same pair of tender hands and placed kindly beneath a massive brilliant green Christmas tree. Lengthy strands of dazzling petite bulbs strung around the tree made my soul twinkle with delight. The smell of peppermint was all around me, enclosing me as if I was surrounded by hundreds of red and white candy canes, which wouldn't be a bad situation at all. Homemade ornaments hung sweetly from the heaps of pine branches, meshing quite well with the gold and silver balls twinkling like no tomorrow. It is a surprise that I haven't burst open yet; I'm wrapped and taped so tightly with the adorable wrapping paper that I feel like tubby Santa when his suit is two sizes too small. It is almost as if Mrs. Claus had fed me too many of her delicious gingersnap cookies that crunch so perfectly in your mouth. The anticipation of this Christmas night is almost too much to handle. The children of the house are up in their shared twin bed, trying their absolute hardest to sleep so as not to risk Santa skipping over their house. Their snuggly foot toed pajamas keep them content as visions of sugar plums dance in their heads. I hear a gust of wind blowing outside and for a second it overshadows the ticking of the clock. I hear the cat meow as he naps lazily on a scratchy blue rug in the corner by the bustling fire place. The five logs n the large fireplace crackle as they heat up and warm the entire house. On the kitchen table rests a wrinkly carrot, a china plate of frosted sugar cookies with red and green thin sprinkles, and a now warm glass of milk. The Christmas bulbs from the tree illuminate the living room with just enough brightness that I can see out of the oak window.
Tonight is the epitome of a perfect night. Gleaming stars are scattered all over the dark misty sky, and rival the beauty of the glittering moon. As if right on cue, snowflakes glide down like angels from heaven and sprinkle the ground with their beauty and delicateness. It is in this moment that I realize that this isn't as good as it will be. Tomorrow is Christmas morning, the day I have not so patiently been waiting for forever. In the morning the two children will come bolting downstairs like speed racers and will look at me as if I am a Christmas display at a high-end department store. Their enthusiastic eyes will dart into me and for the first time in my life someone will look at me how I look at the gorgeous meadow. It really doesn't get much better than that.
Carol Pelz
Junior at Silver Creek Central School
