rayaso | Long Distance Dedication: "The Christmas Train"

Idol Week 11
Topic: Long Distance Dedication

THE CHRISTMAS TRAIN

“It’s back in the box for me,” thought the Christmas Train, sadly. For three weeks each year, the Christmas Train was envied by every other toy. Round and round the Christmas tree he went, carrying tiny presents in his cars. No one knew how many miles he had travelled over the years, but it was a lot. This was his third generation as the best Christmas decoration.

“I was a present myself once, a long time ago,” the Christmas Train would tell the other toys in their colorful paper and ribbons, waiting for the Unwrapping. He was an American Flyer train, and proud of it. “Better than Lionel Trains,” he liked to brag to the caboose. He first belonged to Eddie, then his son Bill, and now Susie, Eddie’s granddaughter.

“I put in a lot of miles with Eddie,” the Christmas Train would tell any toy who would listen. “I wasn’t always a Christmas Train; I started as a model train, and my track ran all over Eddie’s bedroom, even under the bed.” Most toys were scared to be under the bed. That meant they'd been forgotten, which was almost as bad as being unloved. But even if the Christmas Train had been parked under the bed at night, he had always come out again.

It had been a good life, hauling building blocks and toy soldiers around, even Little Sister’s dolls, when she'd asked nice. It was Little Sister who had first thought of putting the Christmas Train under the tree. “I didn’t like it at first,” he'd later admit. “I hated those dried tree needles falling down on me and getting on my tracks.”

The Christmas Train had always worried about obstacles on his tracks – he hated being derailed. The plastic tree had solved that problem, but it just hadn’t been the same, and he'd been glad when the Grownups had gone back to a real tree, needles and all. “They smell better,” the Christmas Train had told the caboose, who had agreed. The caboose would always agree; after all, he had to follow the engine.

There was more than the caboose – the Christmas Train had been a working train. There was the coal car, the box car, two flat cars, and even the crane car, which Eddie used to pick up cargo for the flat cars. “We’re built to last,” the crane car had once told the others, and he’d been right.

But Eddie had played with his trains less and less as the years went by, until finally they had been forgotten, which broke the Christmas Train’s heart. Every toy, even favorite ones, knew this would happen, but it still hurt – a lot. The luckiest would be saved for the next generation, like Brown Bear, who got to sit in a toy rocking chair, waiting for new children. No toy liked to think about what happened to the others, but they knew it wasn’t happy.

But the Christmas Train had been the luckiest of them all, because every year he would be brought out, dusted off, and allowed to run endlessly under the Christmas tree.

One Christmas Eve, no one had turned him off, and he got to see Santa Claus come down the chimney with his bag of presents. “I remember you,” Santa had said. “Glad you’re still running. Eddie had only one toy on his list that year – an American Flyer train. He’d been a good boy, so here you are.” The Christmas Train’s headlight had shone extra bright, but Santa had left before he could say anything.

The Christmas Train had been stored on a shelf in the garage until it was time. “It’s cold and damp,” the Christmas Train had complained to Brown Bear one year, “and I worry about rust.”

“But you’ve always got Christmas,” Brown Bear had said. “I heard they might take away my rocking chair and put me in the closet, and I’m scared of the dark!”

Fortunately for Brown Bear, it had never happened and now that he was vintage, he was a prized house decoration. “I just wish they’d let a child play with me again,” Brown Bear had said, with hope in his voice, “I still have love in me.”

The Christmas Train had been lucky. Eddie had eventually gotten married and had a little boy of his own, Billy. On Billy’s fifth birthday, Eddie had given him the Christmas Train, and Billy had loved him. He had spent too few years with Billy, carrying Legos around and making friends with Thomas the Tank Engine, who was Billy’s first train. Eddie used to put Thomas on the Christmas Train’s flat car and run them around together.

But one year, Billy had asked Santa for slot cars. When the Christmas Train saw him unwrap them, he knew his time would be ending soon. The slot cars had been flashy and Billy had liked to race them so fast they would fly off the tracks and sometimes hit a wall. By the time Billy finally broke them, he was too old for the Christmas Train, so all he could do was sit in the garage, worry about rust, and wait for Christmas.

When Billy had been little, Christmas had been magical, with lots of colorful lights, music, and even a model Christmas Village sitting in clouds of cotton snow. But as he had gotten older, Christmases had become . . . different. The toys, decorations, and smiles had been fewer, and when the Christmas Train had visited with other toys, they had told him about the fights and the tears, until one year the Christmas Train had missed Christmas altogether and had been kept in his box in the garage.

The next year, the Christmas Train had been brought out again to run around the tree in a new house, but Eddie hadn’t been there. After that, the Christmas Train had come out every other year, and it had been just Billy and his mother. Billy had Christmas with his father the other years, but the Christmas Train had stayed behind. These had not been happy Christmases.

After Billy had become Bill, grown up, and moved out, Billy’s mom had started to bring the Christmas Train out every year, even when Billy hadn’t been home. She would sit on the sofa near the fireplace, watch the train go around the tree, look at old pictures, and smile.

Then one year they had the best Christmas ever! Billy had come home with a wife and a baby, little Susie. Susie had loved to watch the Christmas Train, who had felt young again himself. Billy had even put Brown Bear in Susie’s crib, and she had fallen asleep next to him. If teddy bears had real hearts, Brown Bear’s would have burst. When Billy’s family had left, they had taken Brown Bear along, but not the Christmas Train. “She’s too young,” the Christmas Train had thought, consoling himself with dreams of future Christmases.

Susie hadn’t come back every Christmas, but the Christmas Train was still there, waiting and hoping. Finally, on Susie’s fifth Christmas, Billy had put ribbons on his cars and a sticker on the engine. If the Christmas Train could have seen the tag, he would have read “For Susie, from Santa, Grandpa Eddie, and Daddy.” On Christmas morning, when Billy had driven the Christmas Train out from behind the tree, Susie had squealed with happiness.

Susie had loved the Christmas Train almost as much as her Brown Bear, and that was saying a lot. She had loved to get down on the floor and put the track together, even under her bed. She had built tunnels out of blocks, and loaded the Christmas Train with her doll house furniture. The happiest times had been when Grandpa Eddie would visit, and Susie would play trains with her grandpa and daddy.

They had started to store the Christmas Train in a special box high up on a shelf in Susie’s closet. “He’s too old and too special to keep in a garage,” Billy had said. The Christmas Train had agreed with the last part. “I’ll never be too old,” he had thought.

Every Christmas, even after Susie no longer played with him, she would set up the Christmas Train around the Christmas tree. “It just isn’t Christmas without him,” Susie had said.

And so, every year the Christmas Train runs around the tree, looks at all the presents, and waits for Santa Claus to come down the chimney. “Someday there’ll be another child,” he thinks, “and another.” But until then, after Christmas, the Christmas Train gets put in his box and waits for next year.

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A big thank you to halfshellvenus for starting me down this track.