Pretty Berries and Tree
We finish our work placing the cans on the stairs one after the other. We turn back to look at our handiwork. The flip-tops snake around the landing to the second flight, a twentieth-century Hansel and Gretel trail home. We still have cans in our apartment. I’m all for leaving them in the bags outside the door, but Sarah has a better idea.
“Get out of my way,” she whispers, glancing at the neighbors’ doors which are still closed despite our somewhat rude banging and thumping up and down the stairs. Sarah goes to work efficiently stacking those cans. Soon there is a large triangle of shiny, multicolored aluminum standing in front of our door. It looks like a Christmas tree . . .sorta.
I take Sarah’s hand in mine. A feeling of Oneness, of Love, of Wedded Bliss crashes into my heart, and I realize how much I have to be grateful for. I’m about to tell Sarah this when we hear the sound of cans clanking and rattling in a rusted-out shopping cart pulled through a few inches of fresh snow.
I pull Sarah into the apartment, and we stand with our ears to the door, listening for Lotta.
“Oh! One more thing!” Sarah runs to the living room. I am bewildered. I don’t want her to miss this– this perfect moment we’ve created out of practically nothing. She is back in a few seconds and holding the box I had seen beneath the tree. She smiles an apology and rips open the paper, pulls out a pair of bright purple mittens. “I knit them from an old sweater I unraveled,” she whispers, holding them up for inspection. She’s so cute and pleased with herself I almost laugh.
She eases the door open, puts the mittens in front of the cans, and tip-toes back to me. We are unable to resist leaving the door open an inch so we can see Lotta’s frizzy, gray head bobbing up the stairs. She’s muttering happily to herself, and her eyes dart around as she grabs cans with nimble fingers and stuffs them into a black trash bag.
I nudge Sarah who is crouched beneath my arm. She looks up at me and smiles. I know that smile is a gift, a forgiveness. We gently shut the door.
On the other side, Lotta finds a pair of purple mittens and ponders the mystery of a tree of aluminum beer cans. She snags the one on top, and it drops, clink! into her bag.
THE END
Merry Christmas and A Happy New Year
Hope 2011 was a good year for all of you, my Dear Readers. Knowing you are out there makes writing this blog so much more fun for me. I wish you a wonderful holiday season and will see you back here in 2012. Shelley
