Iggy Lambini quickly rolled down the hallway. He was careful to steer his wheelchair between the boxes of Christmas ornaments that lined the hall—zigging and zagging in and out of the maze of boxes. He steered his chair so fast that anyone would have thought he was in a race. And, in a way, he was in a race.

Iggy wheeled through the door of the living room just in time to see his father carry in the Christmas tree. It was a big tree—about eight feet tall. The pine needles were a beautiful blue green color. Iggy laughed with joy.

“Oh look! You’re bringing in the tree. You got the Christmas tree!” Iggy giggled happily.

“Yup!” Iggy’s dad grinned. “I wonder where it ought to go.”

“I don’t know,” Iggy laughed.

“Well, how about…” Iggy’s dad said, “How about…” He carried the tree from corner to corner in the room, looking for the best place to put it. “How about we put it over here by the stairs to my room?” Iggy’s dad rested the tree against the railing of the short staircase that led up to the bedroom. “That way people can see it when they come in the front door.”

Iggy shook his head, “No, I think it would look better by Mom’s picture.”

“By your mom’s picture,” Iggy’s dad repeated, picking up the tree and moving it next to the painting of Iggy’s mother that hung on the far wall of the living room.

“That way, it’ll almost be like Mom is here with us,” Iggy said softly.

“That’s a wonderful idea,” Iggy’s father smiled. Iggy’s dad gently placed the Christmas tree in its stand and tightened the screws on either side, so the tree would stand nice and tall.

Iggy laughed again and happily said, “It looks great! It’s the best tree yet!”
Iggy then looked at the picture of his mother. His smile faded a bit. “I wish Mom was here to see it.”

“She can see it from heaven, Ig,” Mr. Lambini said quietly.

Iggy stared at the painting of his mother. She was very pretty. In the picture, she was wearing a red dress and she was sitting on a sofa. He blond hair was the same color as Iggy’s. Iggy wished more than anything that his mother were still alive. It had been five years since she died. Iggy missed her a lot even though he was very small when she passed away. Sometimes, he worried that he would forget her. That’s why he always asked his father questions about his mother. Iggy wanted to know all about her—what kind of cookies she liked to eat, what her favorite flower was—Iggy wanted to know everything.

Iggy’s father smiled again, “You know, Ig, your mom watches over us all the time. She’s always smiling at us from heaven.”

Iggy nodded and smiled too, “I know. Right now, she’s with God. And, someday, we’ll all be together again.”

Iggy’s father grabbed the handles of Iggy’s wheelchair and quickly spun the chair in a circle, “That’s right!” he said in a playful voice. Iggy laughed loudly. Mr. Lambini continued, “But, right now, we have to decorate this tree.”

“Can I decorate the tree this year?” Iggy asked, “Can I help?”

“You help every year, Iggy,” Mr. Lambini answered. “You always tell me where the ornaments should go on the tree and I put each one where you say.”

“I know,” Iggy frowned, “but I was hoping that I could put some ornaments up myself.”

“I don’t know, Ig,” Iggy’s father said thoughtfully. After a few seconds, he said, “Let’s do it the way we do it every year.”

“I won’t break any of the ornaments,” Iggy pleaded, “My hands are much stronger this year and I barely shake at all in my left hand. I know I can’t reach the top branches form my wheelchair, but at least I can decorate some of the lower branches!”

Iggy’s father thought for a moment. “I just don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

“I won’t!” Iggy grinned, “I promise. Dad, it’s just that Mom picked out most of these ornaments and I want to be able to touch them and hold them. I want to decorate the tree as she would have done.”

Iggy’s father sighed, “Okay—but, just the bottom branches.”

Iggy laughed, “Yea!!!”

Iggy’s father laughed, too. Mr. Lambini took an ornament out of one of the boxes. It was a very pretty red ornament with white sparkly snowflakes on it. “Your mother gave this to me the first Christmas we spent together after we were married.”

“Wow! It’s so pretty,” Iggy smiled.

Mr. Lambini placed the ornament in Iggy’s right hand. Iggy held it very carefully and wheeled himself to the tree. He then hooked the ornament to one of the branches. Iggy grinned.

“Well done,” Mr. Lambini smiled.

Mr. Lambini showed his son each ornament and told him the story behind every one. Everything went very well and Iggy had a good time. But soon his hands became tired. Iggy didn’t want to admit that he was getting tired. He was having too good a time.

“This ornament,” Iggy’s father said, pulling a beautiful, sparkling glass ball out of the box, “was your mother’s favorite.”

“Oooooo,” Iggy gasped. The ornament was beautiful. It wasn’t round like the others. Instead it was shaped like an upside down teardrop and a point on the bottom. The ornament was a shiny white color with a fancy pattern of diamond shapes in a deep blue color.

Iggy’s father continued, “Your mom was given this ornament by her mother when she was a little girl.” Mr. Lambini gently placed the ornament in Iggy’s hand.

Iggy’s hands were so tired, but he held the ornament carefully. He put the ornament in his lap and wheeled himself to the tree. Iggy then picked up the ornament and reached out to hook it to a branch. Iggy’s arms were tired, too. His hand was shaking. And, as Iggy reached out to hang the ornament, his hand slipped and the ornament crashed to the floor in a thousand little, glittering pieces!

“Oh no!” Iggy cried.

“Iggy, are you all right? You didn’t cut yourself did you?” Iggy’s dad asked, rushing to Iggy’s chair.

“NO! I didn’t cut myself!” Iggy screamed. He was so upset with himself. He broke his mother’s favorite ornament. And, he had promised he wouldn’t break any! Poor Iggy. He didn’t realize that his father’s only concern was that Iggy hadn’t been hurt. Iggy was so angry with himself; he didn’t realize much of anything.

“I’m so stupid!” Iggy cried. “I’m so clumsy!”

“Iggy, it’s all right,” Mr. Lambini said gently. “It’s not the end of the world.”

“Yes, it is!” Iggy cried. “I broke Mom’s favorite ornament. I let her down and I let you down.”

“Iggy,” Mr. Lambini began. But, Iggy wouldn’t listen. Iggy wheeled his chair as quickly as he could down the hall to his room. He cried the whole way.

Alone in the living room, Mr. Lambini sighed. How would he convince his son that this accident wasn’t very important?