“Granny, Granny!” the grandchildren burst into the living room, shouting with excitement as a cold breeze followed them inside.
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That year, Granny had decided her grandchildren were old enough to decorate the tree all by themselves. They carried in boxes full of beautiful decorations, which their parents had packed for their visit. Eagerly, they began to unpack and proudly displayed them. Soon, open boxes covered the floor, overflowing with golden baubles, little angels, ribbons, bows, and hearts. Granny could hardly believe her eyes. It was as if someone had brought a treasure straight from heaven into her room. First, they strung the lights. Then Granny let the children decorate freely.
Since the children were quick and clever, the tree was soon finished. It lit up the entire room. “Done!” they cried, then immediately pulled out their phones and stopped paying attention to either the tree or their grandmother. She felt a pang of sadness. She remembered the times when they were babies, how she had carried them at Christmas and their tiny hands played with the ornaments. Now it felt as though they had grown distant.
“Something is missing,” she said softly, and from her pocket she pulled a small Christmas bauble. But what a bauble it was! Its colour, once surely red, was faded and cracked, its glass was scratched and dulled with age. Granny proudly hung it on the highest branch of the tree, ignoring their giggles and whispers. Then she called them for Christmas biscuits and tea. Without looking up from their screens, they followed her out of the room.
The Christmas tree was left alone. The room fell silent.
“What are you supposed to be?” asked the golden finial perched at the very top of the tree. Because it was placed highest of all, it thought it was the most important of all. It believed it had to know everything about every ornament – especially about this ugly bauble that dangled awkwardly amidst all the golden splendour.
“I am the Red Bauble of Love,” the shabby ornament replied. “I come from the very first Christmas tree people ever had in their home. Since they did not know how to decorate it, an angel brought them six baubles – six symbols of Christmas. I was one of them. I appear where love has grown scarce. When there is too little love, I lose my colour.”
The finial, the angels, and all the other decorations stopped swaying on their branches and listened.
“And what were the other five baubles?” the finial asked.28Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡVs9QP5ckLT
“The Bauble of Happiness was green, the Bauble of Joy yellow, the Bauble of Forgiveness silver, the Bauble of Humility white, and the Bauble of Life blue. For a long time, we and the candles were the only decorations trees ever had. But then people wanted more ornaments, more gifts, bigger trees. The first to disappear was the white bauble. Then, one by one, the others vanished too. In the end, we were replaced by decorations bought in shops.”
The ornaments on the tree fell silent. They realised they knew almost nothing about Christmas. Until now, they had lain in boxes in the attic, aware only that their task was to hang for a short while before being packed away again. They had never truly understood what was happening around them during the holidays. They grew sad. Despite their brightness and newness, beside the old, worn bauble they felt like a mere glitter without a meaning.28Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡWnY1gcqrsX
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The living-room door opened again and the children returned, laughing, with Granny at their side. Together they giggled and hugged. Instead of phones, they now held a family photo album and mugs of her herbal tea, which she had carefully dried and saved through the year for just such a moment. For a second they paused, for the tree looked different. It seemed as though the newly-hung ornaments had faded, giving way to the old red bauble, which now glittered and shone across the whole room, casting a warm, gentle glow on their smiling faces.28Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ4bnm58zueP
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and then Add to home screen.