The Christmas Weath

The Christmas Wreath


After her husband died, Mrs. Cleaver changed. She cashed in her pearls and with the little money Ward had saved she and her two sons moved into a dilapidated farmhouse.

No longer the happy housewife, she ruled with a heavy hand and made sure they did their share, or else. It only took one time to find out what the or else was.

When Beaver and Wally finished their chores, or slave work, as they called it between the two of them, they headed back to the farmhouse for breakfast. They washed their chapped hands and sat at the polished wooden table.

Plump Mrs. Cleaver asked if they fed the chickens, slopped the pigs, and chopped wood.

“Yes, ma’am,” they answered in unison.

She set before them hot oatmeal and glasses of orange juice.

“I have one more task for you boys.”

Knowing what was good for them, they both chorused, “Yes ma’am.”

She explained she wanted them to go into the woods and collect the best greens for the holiday wreath. “And not just any greens like last year. I want balsam, juniper, holly, and some cedar.”

The boys didn’t waste any time wrapping up in coats and hats. Since snow was falling they donned the hateful rubber boots and headed for the shed for a few tools.

“One more thing,” Mrs. Cleaver called out, “I want four colly birds, also.”

Beaver looked to Wally, “What are colly birds?”

“Beats me.”

They horsed around for several hours and wandered deep into the woods. “Hey Wally, I’m hungry.”

“Me too. Best we find this stuff and get back home.”

They gathered all the fragrant greens fresh from the boughs, collected berries, and plucked pinecones from the pines. Wally stuffed it all into a backpack. Being so hungry, they even ate some of the bitter berries, and washed it down with the accumulating fluffy snow.

“Hey Wally, the sun is gone.”

“Let’s go back before mom has a conniption fit.”

“Yeah, she’s no fun without dad. I miss dad.”

Tired now, they trudged back through the deep snow, tripping over fallen limbs and getting scratched by gnarled branches.

Darkness fell and they breathed hard. Beaver stopped to rest against an old oak tree. His nose dripped and he swiped it on his sleeve. “Hey Wally, what about the colly birds?”

Wally sank to his knees. “I don’t know Beav. I just want to sleep.”

And that’s what they did. They slept and both dreamed of their dad who shook them awake and said “Go home boys, everything will be alright.”

“Hey Wally, I dreamed of dad.”

“Me too. And there is something chirping in my pack.”

The both looked and sure enough four blackbirds popped their heads up.

The boys twirled around looking for someone who might be their dad, but they were alone.

“Hey Wally, this is going to be the best wreath, ever.”

“Thanks dad.”

You’re welcome, boys.


Words: 496