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THE SNOWFLAKE TREE

The Christmas trees were breathtaking.  No two were alike:  exquisite Victorian ribbon and golden lights; clever handmade animals; starfish; silk roses.  Local organizations had decorated Christmas trees for a Parade of Trees, and passersby voted for their favorite one  by putting a contribution in a box.

Then my eyes fell on the next to last tree.  A big plastic school bus perched on top in place of a star; unsharpened pencils dangled from the branches; the tree was covered with huge, square, rumpled snowflakes, which from a distance gave the appearance of being simply sheets of paper.  "Those are the ugliest snowflakes I've ever seen!"  I blurted to my family.

In a small voice, my seven-year-old son Andy spoke up. "Our class made them."

Immediately, I wished my words back!  I stumbled all over myself trying to remedy what I had done, but Andy simply led me to the tree and found his snowflake.  Suddenly I saw the snowflakes through different eyes.  Little second-grade hands, still learning to use scissors; eager hearts, so happy to participate.  I cast my vote for the "snowflake tree."

After the tree was taken down, Andy brought his snowflake home and gave it to me.  I hung it in my office - a visible reminder to think before I speak and to look for hidden beauty.

--Joan Rae Mills

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