Reduce, Reused, Recycled.

Reduced, Reused, Recycled

Here I sit, shaded by greenery, comforted by fluffy, white and delicate carpet. Around me there's music and warmth, and joyful voices that make a melody in my head. I smell scents of fresh pine, cinnamon candles and sugar filled cookies. The home is welcoming to Christmas, and I'm just one of those little things that people like to have for this kind of celebration.

I can't walk or talk, people just stare at me, and sometimes they give me this odd sort of look like they can't resist me, and that gives me the chills. I would consider my self beautiful looking, like I came in a perfect package, but no one ever tells me so, nor do they care, they just want to know what I'm like on the inside.

Sometimes, my life can be pretty unusual though, like when I am abused and thrown into the "Reuse" box until next time someone wants me again: it could take a couple of days, or it could be a year, maybe longer. I never stay in one place for to long though, I'm moved around from time to time. Like when other celebrations come around and I'm used to be placed in someone elses home. One time, I had to stay in the attic of a smokey home, I swear my color was wearing off then. Other times, I'm actually treated as a true guest, like when I first visited the White House. The first lady feld me up into a square and placed me on a wooden shelf with others when she didn't need me, and that was the very best experience of my life.

But now my life is as boring as heck. I'm placed in the old retirement home with other
house-once-held items and sit depressed thinking of my old life. My color's faded, my ends are torn and split and I'm not worthy anymore. Sometimes I wonder why this place is so full of junk, and what the word "Dump" means on the sign hung on barbedwire fence. I am now at my old age and close to being ready to go. I wish my last intakers would have treated me better and put me to recycle instead, but I had no say.

Thank you for listening to the story of my life,
Sincerely,
Wrapping Paper.

Winter Scene.

Winter Scene.

It smells like cinnamon and pine tree. It feels warm and cozy, comfy and like home. It isn't home though, it's somewhere not so far from where I live. Me and my family are staying at a cabin up in Big White for the Christmas holidays and in my opinion, it's the best way too spend the weeks, in a cabin, on a ski mountain, with the family. It's an amazing place to be, and I love it up here. The windows are frosty and you can barely see the glistening whiteness of the snow outside on the hill. The trees tower over the buildings and people swiftly fly by our cabin dow the slope on their skiis and boards. The kitchen is baking the delicious smells that fill every room in the two floor rental. Grandmother and mom are standing and talking about new things that have happened this year while taking fresh cookies out of the oven. The scent was grandmas Cristmas Pepermint Chocolate Chip, mmm, my favourite. As I walk to the couch I hear my mom and grandma preparing for the lovely Christmas dinner, boy were we going to have a feast tonight. Every year grandma comes to see us for Christmas, and every Christmas dinner, she fills the long table with food. Turkey, cranberries, potatoes, ham, gravy, cooked veggies, homemade bread and tons more of delicious food. My grandpa, uncle, dad, brother, sister and I all sit down in the decorated living room to watch the Christmas specials on the wide screen T.V. The room was filled with Christmas decorations and candles, warm blankets and sparkling lights, but what sticks out the most, is that beautiful evergreen colored pine tree that covers a blank corner in the room. It is treasured with memories that came even when I was first born.