As a single mom, I knew that Christmas was everything to my two boys, Ethan and Jake. They would start counting down the days starting in July, eagerly waiting for the holidays. While other families were planning summer vacations, I was busy stashing away bits of my paycheck to make sure we had a magical Christmas. And this year, after months of scrimping and saving, we finally had our dream Christmas tree – a glorious seven-foot fir adorned with twinkling lights and ornaments that held precious memories.
My heart was filled with joy as my eight-year-old, Ethan, burst through the door waving a paper snowflake he had made in art class. At its center was a photo of the three of us from a picnic last summer. My six-year-old, Jake, soon joined in, proudly showing off his silver-painted toilet paper roll masterpiece. As we hung their creations on the special branch of our tree, their eyes sparkled with pride.
We talked about how our tree was like a giant memory book, with each ornament telling our story. And my boys declared it to be the prettiest tree in the whole world, even better than the one at the mall. Our joy, however, was short-lived.
On Christmas Eve, our landlord, Mr. Bryant, showed up at our door. He barely glanced up from his screen as he sipped on his designer coffee and told us that our tree was a fire hazard and needed to be removed. Despite my attempts to explain, he dismissed me and left, leaving us with a truck that arrived an hour later to take our beloved tree away.
My boys were heartbroken, and their tears were like daggers to my heart. As we watched helplessly, the workers loaded our tree onto the truck, taking away all our cherished memories. That night, as I sat in our silent living room, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of anger and injustice.
The next morning, as I drove past Mr. Bryant’s house, I was shocked to see our tree proudly displayed in his yard, still decorated with every ornament, even the crooked star that Ethan had placed at the top. A massive sign read: “Merry Christmas from the Bryants!” I couldn’t believe that he had not only taken our tree but also claimed it as his own.
I immediately called my best friend, Jessie, who shared my anger and determination to do something about it. That night, we donned black hoodies and armed with duct tape and glitter spray, we snuck onto Mr. Bryant’s lawn. We carefully removed our handmade ornaments and replaced his gaudy decorations with a bold statement: PROPERTY OF SUZANA, ETHAN & JAKE. And to add a touch of festivity, Jessie added some glitter spray in red and silver.
The next morning, Mr. Bryant’s tree was the talk of the town. Photos of his glittering humiliation were trending online, with captions like “When the Grinch Gets Grinched” and “Karma’s Christmas Special.” And it was not long before the truth came out, and people realized that he had not only taken our tree but also claimed it as his own.
That evening, Mr. Bryant arrived at our door, dragging the tree behind him. He mumbled an apology and handed it back to us. And just when he was about to leave, I reminded him to hose down his lawn as glitter tends to stick around. It was a small victory, but it felt good to see him humbled.
Later that evening, we were surprised by a knock on our door. Mrs. Adams and a group of neighbors stood on my porch, their arms full of ornaments, cookies, and an enormous tree. They had heard about what had happened and wanted to make things right. As Mrs. Adams hugged me tightly, she said that no child should cry on Christmas, and Mr. Bryant should be ashamed of himself.
With the help of our neighbors, we set up both trees, filling our home with warmth and love. My boys were overjoyed, and their smiles were brighter than the lights on the tree. And just like that, our home was filled with joy, laughter, and the true spirit of Christmas. As for Mr. Bryant, he hasn’t bothered us since. It turns out that karma really does make the best holiday gift.
