After My Own

     Our family gave up on cutting our own Christmas tree years ago after a few disastrous attempts spending hours trying to locate that great tree the guys spotted while hunting, only to discover that while it looked good when being used as a restroom, it was not suitable for the living room. After spending hours on our futile family search, we would wind up buying a tree from a local lot a few minutes from our house. Those experiences helped us build memories as a family--but not good ones. So I suggested we skip the memorable misery and buy a tree like the city dwellers we actually are instead of wilderness family wannabes. Because my husband and son have been working weekends, I went after the tree on my own this year. All the trees were beautifully shaped and full branched, but most of them were no taller than my meager 5'4" height. It just seems wrong to be eye to eye with the angel on the treetop. Then I discovered  a taller one tucked away in the back without any obvious defects.
    What I did not notice before bringing it home, was its severe scoliosis of the trunk. My husband managed to make it rest mostly straight in the tree stand and secured it to the ceiling with fishing line, so we did not have to counterbalance the sway by hanging heavy ornaments on one side. From the living room it looks symmetrical, from the kitchen it looks like the Hunchback of Notre Dame. Not that I'm complaining, I have scoliosis too. David was a man after God's own heart, this is a tree after my own spine.
    What touched my heart was that, as I was hanging the ornaments, Tracy remembered that we always played Christmas carols on decorating night. So he chose some of his music, groups he liked, but arrangements he thought I would like, those with more guitar work and less screaming. I was surprised to discover, when I was raising teenagers, that they want you to appreciate their music. Not enjoy it--that would ruin the whole independent/rebel thing--just appreciate it. I tried to then. I do now. But most of all, I appreciated that he remembered our tradition. And, perhaps, this son after my own heart will carry it on, after my own years of trimming the tree are gone.