Sammy's Wonderous Adventure

Sammy was the shy sort. Perhaps not shy, but not interesting. Certainly not like the others. His whole life had been spent in the box or on the lowest bough of the tree. Not the inside tree either where tales from the other bells regaled of sparkling-coloured lights, shiny tinsels, toys and presents, big and small, all ensconced in wrappings even fancier than the lights. Exclaiming of children’s laughter brought gasps and oohs and awes as the inside bells told tales that made the long winter stored in the boxes so exciting.

Then the outside bells, the ones on the tree on the hillside, would talk about the twinkling stars on the indigo and inky canvas above, the brilliant Christmas moons, and the cape of white draped across the trees and fences and the diamonds on the ground when the sun shone bright.  They described the children racing down the hillside on their latest slide or skating on the pond, each story told from a different perspective depending where the bell hung on the tree.

When it came to Sammy’s turn, he had nothing to say. He spent his time on the lowest bough, covered in the fluffy snow and not even privy to the wind though, admittedly, sometimes the shaking did reach the lowest perch. His only view was through the eyes of those on the higher branches. He reveled in the tales from those above him and, on a rare occasion, wished that he could get to experience what they did. But for all his years on the outdoor tree, he took the lowest bough.

Excitement built in the trunk when the noises from the attic grew loud. It was always the same. Scraping and hauling and pushing clamours grew louder and louder until the lid was lifted on the trunk and the momentary blinding light signaled it was time.

Their cardboard beds were carried to the tree and as the tree grew, some of the inside bells even joined them. Those ones were welcomed heartily and got to see both sides of Christmas. How fortunate they were. For Sammy nothing had changed. He’d make his yearly debut as the last one to go on and with a little pat from the mitted hand the tree was ready.  

Whispers of the wonders of the night sky reached him through the limbs though he could only see darkness or green and white. Daytime adventures rang out through the fields and tickled his ears. Sammy enjoyed this time outside the box. It was what he was made for.

As snow piled higher, Sammy’s view turned white then black and then a gray that distinguished night from day. The tree shook more than usual, and the muffled sounds and whispers grew quieter until they were gone. At first Sammy paid no heed to the quiet. It had happened before when the winter storms had been a little more forceful. They’d hung outside for longer and regaled of swinging round limbs and clinking together when they finally got back to the time packed away in the trunk. Sammy knew nothing of the swinging and clinking as he’d always been buried in the snow.

Sammy’s worries grew when the snow began to melt, and the whispers were no longer there. He shouted in case the other bells couldn’t hear him but didn’t get a response. Rain began to drip from the limbs overhead as rain pelted the tree. A few drops ran down his string, but he was mostly dry and protected. The snow melted and he was freed. It was when he noticed plants peeking through the ground and the quiet above him was long that he realized he’d been forgotten.

He wasn’t the first this had happened to. He had heard of breezy and sunny days, but they were rare. One little bell had told of the birds that had nested in the tree and how she watched the babies fly off in the summer.  But that was so long ago, he barely remembered. They had missed her in the cardboard in the trunk, but she fit right in when she was collected after Christmas the next year. Sammy wouldn’t see the birds because he was too low. He wouldn’t have those stories to tell.

He had been reminiscing when he felt the soft touch up on. A baby fawn had taken refuge under the tree. She brushed her new fur against him as she settled beneath the bows. He watched her doze in the sun before she rose and knocked into him again. She sent him swinging on the branch. He hadn’t felt that exhilarating rush of air before. Sammy was gleeful as the fawn returned every day to visit the resting place and keep him company.

Before too long the bees began to visit. They tickled his outsides and insides as they looked for flowers. Sometimes they were tired and took a break at the very top of him or took shelter from the wind within his hollowed interior. He was happy to give them a safe place to rest before they buzzed happily away. Flowers grew, the wild hay danced in the breeze, and the young ones frolicked in the field while their parents kept a watchful eye. Foxes came to sniff at him with their cold noses making him laugh. It was an exhausting time.

Sammy grew tired when the first cold winds played around the base of the tree. The hay had been cut, the animals were gone, and leaves of various colours swirled by before moving on. His eyes grew heavy.

He heard his name called in chorus when he realized the other bells were back. It must be Christmas again, he thought. He shouted to them and welcomed them back to the tree and told them how glad he was to know they were there and how he’d missed them. He listened to their whispers over the next few weeks before they returned to the cardboard beds in the trunk.

“We want Sammy to go first,” the bells all said. “We want to hear about his adventures.”

Sammy regaled of the fawn, the foxes, and the bees and all that he had seen from beneath the lowest bough. The oohs and awes of the others warmed his heart as he was asked several times to tell them again what he’d seen.

One of the bells from the inside tree proclaimed that Sammy had outshone them all and they allowed they’d all like to be on the lowest bough where the best things happened.

Sammy smiled at his luck at being able to bring all these new experiences to the others before they returned to the tree once again and Sammy took his rightful place on the lowest bough.