sat on the floor next to the fireplace and opened the large leather bound book with Christmas engraved on the front. It was filled with photos of children playing in the snow, horses pulling sleds and Christmas trees. Scrolled beneath each Christmas tree was the date. The earliest was 1871. The tin types and photos were not taken in the living room, but rather… was it the library?
“How strange, Mike. Notice where they have placed the tree through the years?” She answered for him, “Everyone pictured has the tree here in the library.” A small push of air seemed to slip across the room making the flames in the fireplace dance a two step. “You know Mary, you’re right. I wonder though, why here?” He got up and walked around the room. Looking at the book lined walls. The large stain- glass window in the room held a window seat and overlooked the back yard. “It looks like the trees were always placed in front of this window.” Said Mary.
“Yeah, and away from the fireplace,” he answered as he continued his probing. Mary placed another log on the fire.
She walked over to the window shivering as she looked out at the frozen landscape. Mike’s voice startled her as he cried out, “Mary! Look at this!” “God, Mike, scare me to death why don’t you…what have you found?”
“The answer to the mystery of this room and the Christmas tree,” he slowly replied as he pushed books aside on both ends of the bookcases opposite the fireplace. “A secret room?” asked Mary.
“No, no secret room. Look here, Mary. This room used to be the main living area. You can tell by the original molding behind the books. This is the original house. Our living room is… for Pete’s sake, an addition!”
“So Mike, our Christmas tree belongs in here. It’s a family tradition. As she spoke the pages of the Christmas album that lay open in front of them slowly began to turn. Mike sat next to Mary as they watched in amazement.
“What the…!” exclaimed Mke.
“Shussssssh,” cautioned Mary.
Suddenly the boxes of ornaments that sat forgotten on the chair fell to the floor and scattered through the room. At the same time the pages stopped. The book lay open to a picture of a white-haird lady watching a small girl placing an ornament on the tree. Beneath the picture was written, Cara Lee and Great Grandmother Caroline Mattsom, 1939. As they looked closely they could see the ornaments on the tree in the picture were the very ornaments that lay spread beneath their feet.
“Well I guess we know what we have to do to make things right around here,” said Mary, as she got up and went into the living room with Mike close behind.
“We’ll have to keep up the tradition,” replied Mike with a smile on his face.
It took the rest of the evening before they finally sat down in the library with a glass of wine, admiring the newly placed Christmas tree in front of the library window.
“I guess that wasn’t Cara Lee we saw,” said Mike.
“No, not Cara Lee but Caroline. She was concerned the traditions would be forgotten.”
Caroline Mattsom never again reappeared in the old house. But often, as Christmas nears, an ornament mysteriously appears in the oddest of places: in a silverware drawer, on the porch swing, in a shoe and once in the dog’s bed. But, never in the living room. The appearance of the ornaments signal it is time to purchase a Christmas tree for the holidays.
Peshikee Grade Camp
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