Tree Toppers: A Christmas Story
The door to the loft swung open, casting the entire space in a pale yellow glow as the light bulb hung from the rafters like a fading sun. It was December, which meant the annual search for the Christmas decorations had begun and the routine muttering of “This place is a mess. It needs gutted. We’ll do it in the spring….” echoed throughout the house. Dodging the wooden beams and the occasional drip of rainwater as the hunt began, Tom continued his rants about the state of the house. Since moving in roughly four years ago, the loft had turned into nothing more than a makeshift dumping ground for the nostalgic. Like a TARDIS that had crash-landed and its content spilled out everywhere. It was crammed with everything from wedding dresses, plastic sleeve vinyl and suitcases stuffed with baby clothes and cuddly toys from a childhood gone by. Dodging the debris that was scattered around the loft, Tom eventually found the decorations in the same place they always where; in the back left corner somewhere between the photo albums, a dust-covered poker table and a pile of board games that had already been ear-marked for eBay. This year however, it was also wedged behind an eerie painting called “ Twelve Cats In A Pub”, a gift from his wife’s crazy aunt who, since entering her 80th year couldn’t finish a story with “they’re dead now.” Shoving the painting aside, Tom rescued the decorations from the pile and took them downstairs to where his kids were waiting patiently at the foot of the ladders, ready to welcome them with open arms and help the house get into the festive spirit.
As Tom made the short descent, refusing any help from below, the decorations rolled around in the box, banging off of each other with a CLINK, CLANK and RUSTLE. It almost sounded like they were fighting, jostling for position to be first out of the box and out onto the Christmas tree. This of course wasn’t the case. They were instead victim to an impromptu rollercoaster ride as Tom tried to do what every man can’t multi-task. Balancing the box in one hand, he tried to turn off the light and shut the loft door while simultaneously descending the ladders. It was times like this he thought he was some sort of domestic superhero. A house trained Batman.
Refusing the help from his kids, (Tom wanted to instil the idea that father’s were able to do anything and everything without assistance which of course just wasn’t the case) Tom’s endeavour ended in tears. The box fell and landed on Abigail’s head who, thankfully, was at the age where she could take this kind of incident in her stride without an explosion of waterworks. The real casualty however was a score of decade old baubles, escaping from the box prematurely and landing on the kitchen floor. It smashed into a thousand pieces before making the sad journey to the rubbish bin while the rest of them made their way into the living room.
The tree was the first to go up and, as always turned into a battle that became known as a game of festive jenga. Pete, Abigail’s older brother (who had just decided to re-create the nativity as an R-rated movie, putting the donkey and Joseph in compromising positions while Mary entertained the wisemen and the baby Jesus smoked a makeshift joint) had begun trying to put the tree up without any sort of plan which caused the two of them to start arguing over the correct way to put it up. This ended with Pete having a tree branch shaped bruise on his arse and Abigail being tied up and jammed in the empty cardboard box that housed the tree before Tom eventually managed to split them up. He’d only stepped out for a moment to make a cup of tea as a sort of mental preparation before beginning his yearly fight with the lights. Each year as he tried to untangle them he swore (as everyone does) that he put them back into the box the previous year untangled and was now thoroughly convinced that it was some act of mischief carried out by the lights in order to frustrate him. The idea that the Christmas light’s had a mind of their own and were able to pull of something like this was something that never failed to entertain the kids or his wife. What they didn’t know was that, yes, every year Tom had put them in the box untangled and that it was indeed an act of mischief. There was only one way the lights could get their kicks and they were fairies after all weren’t they?
The lid came off the decoration box, unleashing a cloud of dust that rained over the living room like little flecks of snow, causing Abigail to enter into a sneezing fit. Each ACH-CHOO louder than the last, the poor thing had inherited her mother’s habitual sinus problems that caused her nose to work over-drive. But, much like her mother Abigail was a trooper and carried on going through the decorations regardless, looking for the ones that were being rewarded with a place on the tree this year. As she began the judging process, her father and brother assembled the tree behind her, or at least they tried to. They were lacking the woman’s touch that there mother wasn’t on hand to provide at that moment and was a duty which Abigail didn’t dare touch, her mother’s shadow too great. Deciding to leave it to the professionals, she instead continued her search for the most important decoration of all; the tree topper.
It wasn’t the traditional star or fairy that oversaw proceedings in the Dawson Household each Christmas. It was in actual fact something much more peculiar, giving the tree a unique identity and a bit of personality not shared by the other Christmas trees in the neighbourhood. The tree topper in question was Garfield in a Santa hat. As Abigail hunted for Garfield, growing frantic in her search, Pete and her Dad had began debating over which Christmas music was best to accompany them. It was a dead heat between an AC/DC’s Christmas classic, Mistress For Christmas, the live recording of Thunder’s annual Christmas show or a compilation album that flipped between Frank Sinatra, Paul McCartney and Mariah Carey without mercy. Eventually they settled on the Thunders album, Rock City, much to Abigail’s delight. She was desperate for anything that would avoid the traditional fare that played on a loop in shopping centres, the radio and in supermarkets all month. She was also happy because they were the first proper band Abigail had ever seen live and was the rare occasion that found all four of them (Abigail, Pete, her Dad and even her mother despite the original protestations) enjoying the same taste in music. Going to the gig was one of her happiest memories and the opportunity now to hear their take on some festive classics (not to mention some humdingers of their own) looked to put Abigail in the best mood she’d been in months, if not the entire year. It had been a turbulent one for the family but especially her, more turbulent than any young girl her age should experience. It was for this reason that it was vital the tree be just perfect this year and the house be decorated more Christmas-y than it had ever been, in an effort to wash the bad taste the year had left in each of their mouths.
When Abigail finally picked out Garfield she felt a great wave of relief and smiled, sitting him on the mantelpiece to wait patiently waiting before taking his rightful place at the top. She squinted at Garfield for a moment who smiled lazily back and remembered something her mother had said to her once when she was a child. She had come up with the idea one year that Christmas decorations were, just like Woody and Buzz from Toy Story (a movie they both watched religiously) ALIVE. Eyeing Garfield now, she couldn’t help but feel a suspicious sense of wonder that perhaps her mother was right. But the thought slipped away as quickly as it had come as Pete dangled the tinsel in front of her face in a rustle of colour and took her away from an impromptu investigation into the idea her mother had stumbled upon all those years which would have found that this was, in actual fact, the truth.
They were alive.
Garfield sat on the mantle-piece flanked by his colleagues, a mismatch bunch that ranged from Harry Potter, a Santa made from toilet roll, Pluto The Dog (who’s head had been removed by the family’s cat last year and looked particularly gloomy today because the glue was too itchy) and a plethora of other famous and not so famous faces. Each of them watched on as Abigail tore her suspicious gaze away and moved on to tackle the task of taming the tinsel around the tree. As they watched the three of them fight with the spiky rainbow (a name Tom had given tinsel) they noted the remarkable change in the family and how much they seemed to grow each year. What was incredibly touching, however, was the fact that they remained a unit, stronger than ever, no matter the challenges they had faced (both professionally and emotionally) throughout the year. Being stuffed in a box in the loft for 11 months the Decorations Crew only had periphery knowledge of what went on. They had to figure out what was going on from the muffled sound of emotion that came from below or when one of the family retreated to the loft for a moment of quiet reflection, or indeed a few silent tears. It’s why they took their job so seriously and so preciously. It was their job to brighten up the house yes, but it was also their job to brighten up the mood of the family, and as always, they only had one shot at it a year.
One by one, the Decoration Crew went to work as they were removed from the mantelpiece and hung on their individual tree branch, taking their guard positions that would remain theirs for the forthcoming month. Being the tree topper Garfield was last, watching on as the family worked the tree delicately and with a care that had seemed scarce in previous years. It was important they got it right this year, the tree the way their mother would want it to be, one that would make her smile if she were to come through the door right now, despite the ramshackle job of the lights. Finishing up, the three of them stepped back and admired their work proudly, Sally sandwiched between her brother and her father. The excitement was palatable now, buzzing throughout the room as the time came to finish things off and for Garfield to take his position at the top.
He was delighted when it was Abigail who picked him up and carried him gently toward the tree before her father lifted her into position to put him in place. The view from here was complete and beautiful, and he desperately hoped that Abigail was sharing the moment in all its beauty. As she nestled him comfortably on top of the tree, she smiled at him and, for a split second, it seemed as though that she was in on the secret before her father took her away and back down to Earth, leaving him up there surrounded with tinsel, lights and old friends.
The three Dawsons stepped back to survey the tree in all its glory, safe in the knowledge that they’d done a good job. Tom thought it would be of great surprise to his wife that not only had they had done such a stellar job, but that the tree was still standing as were they, something that they hadn’t quite mastered before now.
Tom looked up to the top of the tree, and became fought back a tear. The fact was that Garfield had been in the family longer than the kids had, and had seen everything. So many happy memories were contained within him. Tom hugged his kids as hard as he could without squishing them before letting them go and asking Pete to go and make them some hot chocolate while he and Abigail picked a Christmas film for them to watch; a three-way battle between Santa Clause, Jack Frost and It’s A Wonderful Life.
As Garfield clung on for dear life at the top of the tree, he was anticipating the coming month with real fervour. He was here for them, they all were. They were here for the smiles on Christmas morning, the tears on Christmas night and the laughter on Boxing Day, Christmas Eve and all the days in between that it was possible to laugh. From his view at the top, he would look after the family over the Christmas period and to him, this was why Christmas truly was the most wonderful time of the year.