If you’ve been up to your eyeballs in Christmas decorations recently, this very short story may inspire you to look at things just a little bit differently!
All Dressed Up
Immobile, I stand watch over my surroundings.
My eyes never close. My stance never changes. I am always aware.
I cannot speak yet I can hear and see. I cannot touch yet I can feel.
I yearn to scream, to reach out, to make myself heard. Impossible, since I will never be free of the binds that confine me to this fate.
How I long to feel the sensation of touch; to trail a fingertip along the surface of one of the petals of the poinsettia plant beside me. So delicate in appearance yet such strength and vitality in its growth. I have memorized the intricate web of veins etched into each leaf and petal; the blend of jade, lime and crimson stippled with shadows and light.
I sense the powerful resonance of your music as it seeps its way into my being. It makes me want to move, to sway, to leap with every vibration.
I smell the enticing aromas of your kitchen as they drift and curl around me in torturous wisps of temptation. I watch you partake; my hunger is also my anguish.
So weary am I of observing, of desiring. How I long to live as you do, to experience all that I watch you take for granted.
Yet remain here I will, for as long as you will have me; standing still and silent until you grow tired of me.
Can you see the tears in my eyes? Of course not. For I cannot cry.
I am nothing but a Christmas ornament—an elegant glass figurine that decorates your mantle.
As you pause to study me, to admire my flawless beauty, I invite you to look a little closer.
Try to see the invisible tears of one who lives dormant and lonely.