I knew exactly where my parents were keeping the Christmas presents. We lived on the fourth floor in an apartment with three bedrooms and two bathrooms. We had a nice view of the neighborhood playground out our front window. As for the bathrooms, you could only get to one of them through my parents’ bedroom. That’s where they kept the presents.
I didn’t know that at first. I just had to go to the bathroom. I had been in the living room reading a book. My mom was in the kitchen baking something, my dad was at work, and my sister was playing with some of her dolls in our bathroom. Maybe she needed the sink for a “pool” or something. Either way, I had to go, so I went to use my parents bathroom.
When I walked in I was pretty surprised to see toys, clothes and books stacked all around, on top of the toilet, under the sink, all over the fluffy rugs that covered the floor. Then there was the bathtub. My mind spun with thoughts of what could be in there. I pulled back the shower curtain. That’s when I saw the staircase. It had never been there before, but it was definitely there now. It kind of twisted a bit so I couldn’t see all the way down, but I could see light coming up from somewhere below, so I figured I’d better check it out. I thought about going to get my sister, but she was pretty cranky when I told her I needed to use the bathroom. Besides, I could always show her later.
I took a step onto the staircase. It was made out of wood with brass pins holding it together. It creaked a bit, but it felt solid. I took another step and then another and before I knew it I was looking up at the distant light above me coming from the bathroom that was now out of sight. I have to admit I was pleasantly surprised by the smell. You never know what you’re going to get when you climb down below your bathroom floor, but everything had a lovely mint aroma and the air was fresh and crisp, but not cold. At least it didn’t feel cold.
Everything seemed to bend down there. After I reached the bottom of the curvy staircase, I had reached a hallway of some sorts. It too bent a bit, so I couldn’t see what was “around the bend” as they say, but I could see fairly well (there were small torches mounted to the wall with lovely little mint flames burning evenly) and I could even hear the sounds of something echoing gently towards me from off in the distance. I walked tentatively at first, but as I got used to this new environment, my confidence grew. Pretty soon I was walking steadily down the hall. The torches lit the corridor, the air was warm and the peppermint smells (turns out the torches were rough hewed candy canes) were starting to mix mint with the smell of chocolate, and a hint of baked cookie. The whole thing was making me hungry for a sweet snack.
As I rounded the curve the sounds became clearer. I could hear singing and clanking. The voices were strange, not like my mom or my dad’s or even my sister’s for that matter, but they sounded friendly. The light at the end of the tunnel grew brighter and brighter and quite suddenly I found myself standing at the edge of the opening into a large, bright room full of action, excitement and elves. Now I’d seen elves on television and at the mall but never in real life. They looked normal enough as far as elves go—like very small grown ups—but I was surprised how normal they looked just as far as people go. They were talking and working. Some were joking and horsing around. Some were frustrated and stressed. But they were all focused intently on what they were doing, even if they were playing around. In some cases, it looked like the ones that were playing around were working even faster than the serious ones, because their heart was in it. Suddenly I realized that I was just standing there in the wide open. None of the them had seen me (or at least no one had taken notice of me) but I quickly crouched down by the edge of the opening, close to the floor. I still wanted to watch them, but didn’t want to be seen. I didn’t feel in danger, but somehow I felt that if they saw me they might get angry or perhaps they would run away and hide. I certainly didn’t want that happen.
So I crouched down to get comfortable in my new “hiding spot”. That’s when I saw the baskets. The elves were starting to gather everything together and cleaning up their work stations. As they moved about and cleared their work, I saw several baskets with names on them. Many of them were kids I knew from school, but not all. I blinked hard when I saw the one with my name on it. Or rather, the name of our family. Then before I could notice what was in it, an elf stepped in the way of my view, threw a small cover over it and picked it up. A few other elves were picking up baskets and carrying their completed projects. Some of them were not, but what I did notice now was that they were walking directly toward me. I froze looking straight at them, but none of them seemed to look back at me. They were too busy talking one with another.
I scrambled to my feet and started back down the hall, the way I had came. They were behind me and moving faster. Their chatter and singing hadn’t become any more intense, but they were clearly moving fast. I guess I had underestimated their little legs. I started to run. The torches were now flying past my head as I ran. I stopped every few moments to see to see if they had stopped, but every time I did they had gained ground and seemed to be just around the bend. The mint air was stinging my lungs slightly because I was breathing fast and hard, but I turned again and ran. This time I didn’t stop and listen. I reached the bottom of the staircase and started climbing. Even while I was running I could hear them. They were on the stairs too, and they were clearly fast climbers. I started to take the stairs two at a time. I could now see the bathroom light up above. It was getting closer, but so were the elves. I ran and ran, tripped once and banged my shin, but quickly got back up and then tripped again only to find that, in trying to stop my fall, I’d reached out and grabbed the shower curtain. I pulled myself up into the bathroom. The unwrapped presents were still scattered everywhere. I tip-toed through them trying very hard to not touch them or knock anything over. I made it to the door and finally had my hand on the handle. Then I did stop. I could hear them. They were coming. I had to decide what I was going to do. They were right there. I could smell the mint air pushing up as the whole group of them reached the top of the staircase. Then I made my decision. I turned the knob, stepped out into my parents bedroom and closed the door behind me. Then, silence. Absolute silence. I leaned against the door, trying to hear, but there was nothing. I stepped back onto the edge of my parents bed, sat down and rubbed my shin. It hurt. Then I heard something from inside the bathroom, like a box falling over and low voices—whispering but intense—like someone chastising someone else for being clumsy, and then nothing. Silence. I tip-toed out of the room. I went across the hall and got my sister.
“Come here. I want to show you something,” I told her.
“I’m busy. Leave me alone,” she said.
“I know where the Christmas presents are.”
“You what?”
“I know where the Christmas presents are. Come here. I’ll show you.”
Mom was still baking in the kitchen.
My sister was skeptical, but she put down her dolls and followed me. She had a scowl on her face as if to say, “If this is some stupid joke I’m going to punch you.” (I know my big sister loved me somewhere deep down inside. She just didn’t always know how to show it.)
“You have to be very quiet,” I explained. “I don’t think they want us to see them.”
“The presents?” she asked.
“No. The elves.”
Her scowl turned to rolling eyes.
“I’ll open it just a bit and you can peak in. But be quiet.”
I could tell she was getting tired of this, so I quickly but quietly cracked open the door. I nodded my head as if to say ‘look inside’. She did, and then held absolutely still. She didn’t say anything, then she looked me straight in the eyes and punched me in the arm.
“Hey!” I yelled. “That hurt.”
“Stop bothering me,” she said and then walked out of the room.
I opened the door gently and peaked in, then I opened it all the way. I walked in to see the whole room. There were towels, soap, shampoo, a few magazines in a holder next to the toilet and the fuzzy rugs that covered the floor, but no presents. I pulled back the curtain on the shower. There was a nice porcelain tub with a big metal drain. I sat down on the toilet lid. I pulled my leg up under my chin and rubbed my shin. A bruise was starting to appear. I was still hungry for a cookie.
I walked down the hall into the kitchen. I didn’t even bother saying anything to my sister. I got one of the mint chocolate cookies my mom always made around this time of year, told my mom I was going to playground and headed outside. I walked down the stairs. Four flights. I had never thought of it before, but they kind of spiraled downward as you went from floor to floor. I got outside. It was cold and crisp, but the sun was out and I felt warm. I started to walk across the field from our building to the playground. It was a wide open field of grass so it struck me as strange that I was walking in a round about way to get to it. I wasn’t trying, but I found myself walking in a long curving arc toward the playground. It was cold so there weren’t any other kids outside playing, so I had the place to myself, but I could hear small voices singing somewhere in the distance. Maybe somebody had their window open and the tv was on. I puttered around the playground not really wanting to play, but not wanting to get punched in the arm again by my sister. I went down the bending slide. I went up and down on the see-saw as best I could by myself and then I just sat on the swings, rocking back and forth gently.
As I swung back and forth, I couldn’t help but notice that everything smelled slightly like peppermint. I sat there for a moment and just thought. The singing had a stopped. Then I looked down at the ground. I'd always wondered where playgrounds came from.
I went to the sand box and started digging.
©2009 by O Productions, LLC. New York, NY
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