11 months of the year I live in the attic, abandoned and forgotten. My world is dark, the spiders and insects my only friends.
But as the days get warmer, I know the time draws near. December arrives, and with it the heat of summer and soon the father is stealing me away from my dark home. I am taken out of my box and hosed down, my spider and insect friends evicted from their homes among me. A night to dry out and then I am carried inside. And then begins my time to shine.
I am afforded a place of honor, where all can see. The youngest girl remarks that I seem smaller than last year, and I try not to get offended. The ornaments are taken out of their boxes and soon are among me old friends I see but once a year. Lights twinkle in my branches and I know I am beautiful, for that one month, as presents are nestled among my feet. Yet I know that December will end, and I will forced back into my box again. But until then I will shine, and twinkle and be by far the prettiest Christmas tree around.