Mila and the Little Bell

Today is Christmas Eve.
The living-room door is shut.
“Only when the little bell rings,” says Mama.
And until then?

Mila puts an ear to the door.
Shhh.
Only the clock in the hall: Tick. Tock. Tick.
No bell.

Until then Mila counts the stairs.
Up. Down.
And up once more.
No bell.

From the kitchen comes the smell of biscuits.
“For those who wait,” says Papa and brings one.
Mila nibbles. Slowly. Even more slowly.
The biscuit is gone. The door is still shut.

Mila moves right up to the door.
“Will it take much longer?”
“I’m waiting too,” says Papa.
Everything is still quiet.

“What do you think is in there?”
“An elephant,” says Papa.
“Too big!”
“A mouse?”
“Too quiet!” Mila giggles. Behind the door everything stays still.

Mila builds a tower as high as the door handle.
Behind the door something rustles.
Behind the door something crackles.
Still no bell!

Mila lies flat on the floor.
Under the door: only light. Warm and yellow.
It smells of fir. And of candles.
Still nothing.

There! The door is open a crack.
Just one look. A tiny one …
Mila squeezes both eyes shut
and pushes the door with both hands.

And at that very moment:
Jingle-ingle-ing!

Sock by sock Mila goes in.
The tree is so tall. The candles so many.
Right at the top, a star.
Ohhh.

The little bell is still swinging.
“Who rang it?” asks Mila.
“Not us,” say Mama and Papa.
At the window the curtain is still moving.