A Cardboard Christmas
written by: Augustine Ruiz
He woke to a bitterly cold morning. He pressed his face against the frosted window. Ice crystals framed a scene of ankle-high snow, thigh-high to him since he was only 10 years old. He gazed around the room, barren of any Christmas tree or decorations. His family rarely had a Christmas tree that he could remember, nor did they exchange presents; not because they did not believe in Christmas, but it was just that a frivolous tree and gifts were an extravagance that his parents could ill afford.
The young boy put his imagination to work, found some cardboard boxes in the basement, cut open a box at the seams, and began to fashion a tree. He colored it green and decorated it with odds and ends from around the house; his mother was a seamstress, and there were plenty of empty spools that he painted and hung as ornaments. He sprayed some white paint on the tips of the tree to look like snow. He constructed a fake-brick fireplace from cardboard boxes and colored the bricks reddish/brown, chipped some to look old; he cut the center out for a make-believe fireplace, an old log from the back yard added reality; he crafted red and yellow crepe paper in strips to resemble flames and taped them to the cardboard fireplace. A naked yellow bulb behind the log served as a flame.
It was a nice faux tree empty of presents, but without money for presents, it would remain so. But they did have a shovel, a huge coal shovel in the basement. He put on some layers of clothes, galoshes to fit over his shoes, wrapped a scarf around his neck, a hat with ear flaps, his dad’s frayed work gloves, put the shovel on his small shoulder, and walked out into the frigid, snow-covered streets. Armed with a coal shovel and armor of layered clothing, he was a knight ready to battle the cold elements.
He calculated he could clear enough snow from sidewalks to maybe buy something nice for his family. He knocked on doors and with his humble Oliver Twist voice, asked if they wanted their walkway cleared of snow for .25 cents, .50 cents for the driveway. Not a single person turned him away. As he walked from house to house, he peered in some windows and saw actual fireplaces ablaze and beautiful Christmas trees and presents piled around them. When the doors opened, the warmth and aroma from inside engulfed him as he stood there with his shovel. He was envious, but not ashamed of his condition. It just made him more determined to keep shoveling, ignoring the numbness in his feet and fingers.
He shoveled into the night and stopped only from sheer exhaustion. When he got home, he emptied the sock full of quarters on his unmade bed and spread them out like a pirate’s treasure. He ended up with a little more than $25 in quarters. The following morning, Christmas Eve, he walked to the local Five and Dime store and bought things he knew his family would like: a pair of gloves for his brother, a hair brush for his sister, a nice new apron, robe, and slippers for his mom, and better work gloves, scarf, and hat for his dad. He had enough money left to buy their dog a few chew toys.
Christmas Eve, they went to midnight mass as a family tradition. When he walked back into the house, he felt the warmth from the glow of the fake fireplace and the hope that the cut-out Christmas tree represented.
Decades later, he would come to realize that there was no richer experience than growing up poor…and not realizing it.
It was the best Christmas ever.
- A Cardboard Christmas - December 20, 2025
