[ WP ] : Tell a story from the perspective of the nearest object to your left .

I remember when they got me. That was back in the old days, when my plastic needles glistened. They'd taken me out of my box, stood me up by the window, and adorned me with ornaments and tinsel. I remember clearly when their son, Timmy, opened his first present that Christmas. He was so excited when he saw the baseball. It was that baseball that formed his teenage years, when he played for the Minor League Baseball team. 
 
 Then he was sixteen. His Christmas present was a car. Oh, how he rejoiced. He did n't know what to do, what to say, how to respond. It was more than he could ever wish for, he said. 
 
 Then it was his last Christmas with me. He was a senior in High School, and had already been accepted to a University in London. It would be too expensive to visit every year from now on. I still remember the sound of his laughter when he read his humorous Christmas card that snowy evening. 
 
 Seven years later, Timmy visited, accompanied by a woman. Her abdomen was quite large. 
 
 The next year, there was another visitor, barely a year old. I learned that his name was Alex. His blue eyes shone as brilliantly as Timmy's. 
 
 Then, the Christmas's stopped. Timmy's parents had begun visiting other family members for the Holidays, so I was kept in the attic. Nearly a decade passed when, one frosty Christmas morning, Timmy's father carried me into the living room one last time. Timmy was there, a grown man, with his ten year old holding his mothers hand. 
 
 `` Timmy,'' his father began, `` I'd like you to have our Christmas Tree. It means a lot us, because of all the Christmas's that it's lived with us. I got it when you were a little boy, and it's always been here, and it's always been in my heart.'' 
 
 Tears swelled in Timmy's eyes, and he hugged his father, and his mother, as I was exchanged from one generation to another. 
 
 I sit here now, old and worn, in a festive and cozy living room. Alex is here, opening a present underneath my branches. It's a baseball.
