20 Dec 2008 :: Christmas Miracle
Lack of sleep for two straight weeks is a lot like being on crack (I assume). Read on at your own risk.
Christmas was the time of year that Reginald the Wrapping Paper had looked forward to his entire life. When he was but muddled pulp, 75% recycled material, to boot, Reggie had yearned to be the princely, stately and one use paper that would lend beauty to the thought contained within. No, Reginald did not want to be a college rule spiral bound notebook, nor corrugated cardboard, for Reginald only hoped to help others.
It seemed that such a wish was granted and he was printed in the waning days of summer, shipped to a warehouse where he lingered in dusty boxes with many like himself. They would chatter the days away, telling each other their hopes and dreams.
Fall came and morphed towards Winter, when Reginald was plucked from his shelf and delivered to a doorstep, the grudging purchase only bought because he was the cheapest wrapping paper in the school fund raising catalog. He found himself stuffed into a drawer with an assortment of other wrapping papers and for the first time, began to wonder if he would ever realize his dream.
Reginald the Wrapping Paper began to realize his worst fear three weeks before Christmas. At random intervals, the drawer would get pulled open and fumbling fingers would pluck a roll of wrapping paper that best fit the desires of the giver. Reginald was never chosen, nor did the fingers ever linger over his particular place in the drawer. It was not his fault that he was not the white wrapping paper with the shimmering snowflakes, or the paper with jolly messages and abundant candy canes. Nor was Reginald at fault for the popularity of the Bolt Christmas Special wrapping paper or his more near neighbor, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button Christmas Special wrapping paper. It was not poor Reginald's fault, not one little bit. The graving oozing from the pies meshed too well on Reginald's brown background, and the yellow slogan shouting, "Merry Meat Pies," did not prove to be as catchy as Reginald and his designer had thought.
So there in the drawer did Reginald sit. First, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button Christmas Special was used, then the Shimmering Snowflakes and then the Jolly Messages. One day Bolt Christmas Special was finally used all up, and Reginald was left alone in the dark; it was but two days before Christmas. For a full day Reginald waited, but no hand came to slide to the drawer open.
The next day came and began to pass. Reginald would miss Christmas, his only desire and his only purpose. He began to weep. But then, late Christmas Eve the light shuffle of feet cause Reginald to cease his snuffling. He dared to hope. The drawer shifted, then opened and the great hand of the Man of the House came into view. The hand paused, uncertain and disdaining, but after reflection, took Reginald from his old resting place.
For the next half hour he was cut recklessly into pieces. Some parts of him were used to wrap lady's delicates the Man only hoped the Lady would wear. Other parts of Reginald were taped mercilessly onto toys that were certainly generic and would certainly please the children until they broke the following day. Such joy was all Reginald's, and he savored every moment. His purpose had been fulfilled.
The next day the children tore his from the presents and he was discarded in tattered pieces on the carpet, but Reginald's heart never felt so full. The Lady carefully unstuck each piece of tape and dropped him to the floor, only to pick him up hurriedly to keep the kids from seeing what was in the box. Reginald knew the meaning of Christmas that day, and as he sat in the recycling bin, Reginald knew that Hope was what made the heart of the season. |
