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The Christmas Star
This was my grandmother's
first Christmas without Grandfather,
and we had promised him
before he passed away
that we would make this
her best Christmas ever.
When my mom, dad, three sisters
and I arrived at her little house
in the Blue Ridge Mountains of North Carolina,
we found she had waited up all night
for us to arrive from Texas.
After we exchanged hugs,
Donna, Karen, Kristi
and I ran into the house.
It did seem a little empty without Grandfather,
and we knew it was up to us
to make this Christmas special for her.
Grandfather had always said
that the Christmas tree
was the most important decoration of all.
So we immediately set to work
assembling the beautiful artificial tree
that was stored in Grandfather's closet.
Although artificial,
it was the most genuine-looking Douglas fir
I had ever seen.
Tucked away in the closet
with the tree was a spectacular array
of ornaments,
many of which had been my father's
when he was a little boy.
As we unwrapped each one,
Grandmother had a story
to go along with it.
My mother strung the tree
with bright white lights
and a red button garland;
my sisters and I carefully
placed the ornaments on the tree;
and finally, Father was given the honor
of lighting the tree.
We stepped back
to admire our handiwork.
To us, it looked magnificent,
as beautiful as the tree in
Rockefeller Center.
But something was missing.
"Where's your star?" I asked.
The star was my grandmother's favorite part
of the tree.
"Why, it must be here somewhere," she said,
starting to sort through the boxes again.
"Your grandfather
always packed everything so carefully
when he took the tree down."
As we emptied box after box
and found no star,
my grandmother's eyes filled with tears.
This was no ordinary ornament,
but an elaborate golden star covered
with colored jewels and blue lights
that blinked on and off.
Moreover, Grandfather had given it
to Grandmother some fifty years ago,
on their first Christmas together.
Now, on her first Christmas without him,
the star was gone, too.
"Don't worry, Grandmother,"
I reassured her.
"We'll find it for you."
My sisters and I formed a search party.
"Let's start in the closet
where the ornaments were,"
Donna said.
"Maybe the box just fell down."
That sounded logical,
so we climbed on a chair
and began to search that tall closet
of Grandfather's.
We found Father's old yearbooks
and photographs of relatives,
Christmas cards from years gone by,
and party dresses and jewelry boxes,
but no star.
We searched under beds
and over shelves,
inside and outside,
until we had exhausted every possibility.
We could see Grandmother was disappointed,
although she tried not to show it.
"We could buy a new star," Kristi offered.
"I'll make you one from construction paper,"
Karen chimed in.
"No," Grandmother said.
"This year, we won't have a star."
By now, it was dark outside,
and time for bed,
as Santa would soon be here.
We lay in bed,
snowflakes falling quietly outside.
The next morning,
my sisters and I woke up early,
as was our habit on Christmas Day--
first, to see what Santa
had left under the tree,
and second,
to look for the Christmas star in the sky.
After a traditional breakfast
of apple pancakes,
the family sat down together
to open presents.
Santa had brought me
the Easy-Bake Oven I wanted,
and Donna a Chatty-Cathy doll.
Karen was thrilled
to get the doll buggy she had asked for,
and Kristi to get the china tea set.
Father was in charge
of passing out the presents,
so that everyone would have something
to open at the same time.
"The last gift is to Grandmother
from Grandfather,"
he said, in a puzzled voice.
"From who?"
There was surprise
in my grandmother's voice.
"I found that gift
in Grandfather's closet
when we got the tree down,"
Mother explained.
"It was already wrapped
so I put it under the tree.
I thought it was one of yours."
"Hurry and open it,"
Karen urged excitedly.
My grandmother shakily opened the box.
Her face lit up with joy
when she unfolded the tissue paper
and pulled out a glorious golden star.
There was a note attached.
Her voice trembled
as she read it aloud:
Don't be angry with me, dear.
I broke your star
while putting away the decorations,
and I couldn't bear
to tell you.
Thought it was time for a new one.
I hope it brings you
as much joy as the first one.
Merry Christmas.
Love, Bryant
So Grandmother's tree had a star
after all,
a star that expressed
my grandparents' everlasting love
for one another.
It brought my grandfather home
for Christmas in each of our hearts
and made it our best Christmas ever.
