The Christmas Tree Read Online Free Page B

opened my satchel and gently spilled out my precious collection onto my bed. It had belonged to my father and was made up of twigs and leaves and nuts from trees, and pieces of bark. There were also four carefully folded pieces of paper which contained drawings of the various parts of trees. They were labeled across the top, in my father’s careful handwriting: Sycamore. Maple. Gingko. Oak. While Doreen watched, I made little piles on each piece of paper. The sycamore leaves, twig, nuts and bark went on the scamore drawing, the oak on the oak, and so on.
    â€œThere,” I said, proudly when I was finished.
    Doreen leaned over the bed as though examining the things I’d laid out. Then, to my horror, she grabbed the oak pile, broke the twigs, crumbled the leaves into pieces, and threw the bark on the floor, crushing it with her heavy shoe. Only the little acorn escaped by rolling under the bed.

    â€œWhat a ninny you are,” she sneered and put up her fists, as if waiting for me to try and hit her.
    I felt my face burning. I was so angry. But Father had always said anger doesn’t cure anything, and I knew it would hurt him to disobey.
    So I didn’t say a word to Doreen. I just gathered up my twigs and papers, knelt down and swept the crushed pieces of bark into my hand, and gently laid them all back into my satchel.
    From then on, I was known by the adults at the home as The Quiet One. I did what I was told, nothing more and nothing less. The women who took care of us were really quite nice. They tried at first to coax me to speak out, to play. But there were so many children to take care of that it was easy for them to forget about me because I wasn’t any trouble at all.
    As for the other children, they left me alone. The kind ones, I imagine, had their own troubles to occupy them; the bullies like Doreen ignored me once they found I wouldn’t rise to their taunts. I simply waited for the day when I could once again look out of the window and not be afraid to ask: “What lies out there for me today?”
    â„ ❄ ❄
    Then early one day, just after dawn, before the morning bell had rung, I woke up to find myself staring up at two very tall people. Maybe they weren’t really that tall, they just seemed so to me. I was six by then. I will never forget the date. It was April 2, 1935, almost a year to the day since I had said good-bye to Mrs. Ellis.
    The man and the woman introduced themselves, but I was so sleepy I couldn’t make out what they said, just that they had been sent by somebody to pick me up.
    I heard the woman say, “Come on, dear, get dressed and pack your things. You’re coming with us.”
    For a minute I shivered I was so excited, until I remembered the last time a kind lady had taken me somewhere. I didn’t object, however. But then, I wouldn’t have. I had become compliant. My objective was not to be noticed, and I managed by doing what I was told.
    It took only a minute for me to get ready. I left with what I had brought. I hadn’t grown very much, so everything still fit except my shoes, which had been passed along to an even smaller girl. I pulled my satchel out from under my pillow, where it had remained, unopened since the day I’d arrived, and I was ready to leave.
    â€œWhat a marvelous satchel, Anna,” the lady said. “Look at all those straps and buckles! What’s inside?”
    I was too frightened to reply—or to even look at her. I shuffled along with my eyes on the ground.
    The woman whispered something to the man. I couldn’t hear what she said, but when I sneaked a glance upward, I saw that she seemed worried about me. I would have liked to answer her; I could sense that she was a kind person. But I wasn’t ready to take a chance like that.
    I didn’t pay much attention to what the grown-ups were chatting about as we walked along. I was too caught up in the moment, of once again