Christmas in January

The artificial tree appeared to be in decent shape.

There was some wear at the top – probably where tree toppers had gone on an off through the years – and a few limbs were missing their greenery.

It was slightly faded and damp, thanks to a recent rain, but the woman figured it would do just fine. She bent over, gingerly lifted it from its unceremonious spot next to the plastic green garbage can, and threw it in the back of her Ford F-Series truck.

The engine was still running; the old tan-and-brown clunker spat and sputtered every time she tried to crank it, and when she succeeded in doing so, it was always a small victory.

She didn’t know how long her “shopping trip” would last, she merely hoped the truck lasted long enough for her to complete it.

The tree was a good find from a decoration standpoint, but it was only part of the presentation.

She thought she had made her top find of the day a few blocks over – in the area she called “Ritzyville” – when she spotted a pair of scooters leaning against a recycling bin.

Both looked practically new, and she figured people who had manicured lawns and two-story houses could afford to upgrade their kids’ playthings every Christmas. But as she pulled over and tried to inspect, she noticed a couple of young boys staring at her from the bottom of the driveway.

Maybe the scooters weren’t left there for disposal, after all. Perhaps the kids were just taking a break. Regardless, their hard looks were enough to send her on her way.

Feeling a sense of shame was bad enough … she certainly didn’t want to be accused of stealing.

With a little less than two hours before her grandchild got home from school, she knew she should head back soon. But she needed more than a tree – she needed something to put under it other than the puzzle and small dolls she had purchased from the discount store.

So, she continued to drive through neighborhood after neighborhood, hoping something worth taking would catch her eye.

Ultimately, she came across a house in a cul-de-sac that looked as though it had thrown away the entirety of the holiday.

There was a “live” tree that had already turned brown and brittle, and box after box overflowing with bows and ornaments.

As she dug through the first box, she found a small, metal toy car that looked perfectly good except for a small scratch on the hood.

Another box had the pieces of a playhouse. She didn’t have time to figure out if all the pieces were there, but there were enough to assemble a nice little structure.

She even managed to pull out what she called “one of them electronic gizmos” with the back panel cracked and the batteries missing.

Shouldn’t be too hard to find a couple of “D” batteries, though. And a little tape would go a long way in ensuring the crack didn’t grow larger.

She moved some items from one box to another, and filled up one with her “prizes.”

If she left now, she’d have plenty of time to get home and get everything ready.

Later, as the bus rolled by abandoned houses and an overgrown lot full of junk cars, it stopped on a dirt road. There, a young girl jumped out, first checking the mailbox and then running straight to the door underneath the awning of the mobile home.

Once inside she spied a tree in the corner – decorated in red and green ribbons – and saw wrapped gifts placed underneath it.

She squealed with delight, ran to her grandmother and gave her a tight, lingering hug.

“I love you, granny,” she said. “All the other kids have already had their Christmas. Now you and me get to celebrate ours.”