The Bluebird Word

An Online Literary Journal for Poetry and Flash

Tag: Decorations

Photo by Arun Kuchibhotla on Unsplash

A How-To Guide on Decorating Our Christmas Tree

1 December 2024 /

Nonfiction by Andrea Figueroa-Irizarry

  1. Look for the gardening gloves in the garage. There will be three pairs, and one has a hole in the palm where needles can enter. Your stepdad will usually volunteer to take that one.
  2. Wrap your arms around the middle of the tree once it’s halfway off the back of the truck. Lift with your legs.
  3. Walk it across the yard and through the front door. Some needles will scrape off the doorframe. Your mom will already be ready with the broom.
  4. Your sister will hold the stand steady while you and your stepdad right the tree and lower it in. There will be four screw bolts on the sides—turn them clockwise until the metal connects with the trunk. Don’t stand up right away, though, as you might need to readjust until your mom and sister deem the tree straight enough.
  5. Decide between two tree skirts. (You’ll always choose the red one.) Connect the Velcro on either side of the stand.
  6. In the blue tub marked X-Mas Lights, you’ll find string lights bundled around a dozen paper towel rolls. Plug one into the wall. Once you find one that works, hold each end on your index fingers and follow your mom as she weaves the green cables through the branches. Start from the top. Be ready to bring the next roll.
  7. Put the fragile ornaments near the top and the wooden ones near the bottom. The dogs will start to sniff the needles as Mom sweeps them; their nose will bring them to the bottom row of branches, and their wagging tails will likely knock a few down.
  8. Most of the ornaments came from your grandparents, your mom will say. Some of them, like the brassy cherubs playing on lyres or the crystalline doves in mid-flight, will be pointed out more than others. Care for these the most.
  9. End with the ornaments in the red and white boxes. One is dated for your parents’ wedding anniversary. Another shows a soccer ball and two hanging cleats from middle school. Two more have a cap and gown for you and your sister. You will not mean to, but the ones for the dogs will go up last. You will always make sure to bundle them close together on the tree.
  10. Decide between the tinsel ribbon or the checkerboard ribbon. (You’ll always end up with the tinsel one.) Follow your mom around the tree as she pinches and curls the ribbon around the ornaments.
  11. Place a few more ornaments. Change a few others. Make sure your name is near your sister’s.
  12. Position the dogs under the tree. Take videos and pictures. They will move, and most of the photos will be blurry, but when you look back on those moments, you will hear your family’s laughter blend with the holiday music in the background.

Andrea Figueroa-Irizarry was born in Puerto Rico and raised with a North Florida accent. She writes fiction and nonfiction about mental health, family, and relationships, and she is currently studying for her MFA at the University of South Florida. When not writing, she can be found cuddling her basset hound.

Photo by Toa Heftiba on Unsplash

Christmas To Go

1 December 2024 /

Poetry by Carol Barrett

Barely after six on a cold December morning, I pull into
my favorite drive-through and order my usual—hazelnut
truffle mocha with whipped cream and caramel drizzle, wait

for the steaming hot cup to glide through my open window.
Suddenly a worker crashes through the front door of the shop,
arms raised, swatting wildly, yanking down all the green

and red foil fringe wafting from rafters. What’s gotten into him?
Some scrooge out to ruin Christmas? Disgruntled employee
bent on revenge? He is determined to eradicate the bling, despite

the company logo Love Abounds bold on his sweatshirt back,
while the two pouring shots and flavors ask, What on earth
are you doing? They too like the giddy décor, pampering spirits.

I overhear his reply, though I am sure they are trained to keep
such revelations to a whisper, so as not to distract the regulars
in urgent need of a wake-me-up, or a soothing hot chocolate.

Turns out the fringe has been blowing all night, yards and yards
of frothy wonder dancing in the warm draft from the furnace,
16-inch silvery slivers shimmering despite absent baristas.

The manager had to call someone four times in the middle
of the night to check on the place, as the motion detector
suspected an intruder making off with state-of-the-art

equipment, high-grade Columbian coffee, or Santa’s tip jar,
red-capped teddy on the handle. She couldn’t imagine
the source of disturbance, finally recalled the seasonal

motif authorized the day before. She hadn’t picked it out
personally, or might have put two strands together sooner.
The choice was what the seventeen-year-old night crew

came up with, naturally prone to glitz and drama. They delivered.
The place now back to bare essentials, my creamy restorative
ready to sip. No bat in the belfry. We can ring in a new day.

Carol Barrett has published three volumes of poetry, most recently Reading Wind, and one of creative nonfiction, Pansies. An NEA Fellow in Poetry, she teaches for Antioch University and Saybrook University. Carol’s poems appear in venues in seven countries, and in over sixty anthologies.

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