O Christmas Tree

Sarah, Ethan, Emma and I drove to Home Depot to buy our Christmas tree a couple weeks ago. The day after Thanksgiving, to be exact. We waited until late afternoon because it had rained all day, and we were hoping it would stop before we went. But when we climbed into the caravan, a lazy drizzle was still falling, and it was cold (in the mid-40s). But it was the day after Thanksgiving. And ever since we’ve been married, we always get our tree on that day.

I didn’t grab a jacket (I was wearing a long sleeved shirt) because Home Depot is only a few minutes from our house, and I figured we’d only be outside for five or ten minutes while we picked the tree. Emma didn’t want to bring a jacket, either, and she was adamant about wearing flip flops. We figured we would let her since it was a minor thing and, after all, good parents “major in the majors” and “minor in the minors.”

When we arrived at Home Depot we walked to the outdoor section where the trees were being sold. Douglas Firs, Balsam Firs, Fraser Firs, Scotch Pines, White Pines, White Spruces, Norway Spruces and Blue Spruces—there are lots of varieties to choose from. We always get Fraser Firs, so that decision was easy. And we figured the selection process would be quick since we were the only customers outside and would have unhindered access to the Fraser Fir section. Easy and Quick. Quick and Easy.

We often vacillate between purchasing the 7-8 feet-tall firs or the 8-9 feet-tall firs. So we checked the prices and decided that the first option was the best for us. And about that time Emma said, “Daddy, I’m cold.”

The problem was there were only five or six Fraser Firs left (a new shipment would be arriving in the next day or two), and they had clearly been picked over by a stream of previous customers earlier in the day. Nevertheless, I stood each one up, shook it out and held it straight as Sarah stood several yards away to see how it looked. Height, girth, even distribution of branches, needle-color and overall shape are all things that must be considered.

The first tree was too short (more like 6’ 11” than 7-8 ft.). The second was too thin. The third had a gaping hole absent of branches about two thirds of the way up. The fourth had a definite yellow tint to the needles. The last one looked like the leaning tower of Pisa even when I held the trunk straight. And I promise I held the trunk as straight as I could. Emma, meanwhile, needed the shared body heat of being held. And I didn’t blame her. Fifteen minutes in the cold drizzle had me wishing I had brought a jacket.

Sarah held Emma most of the time since my shirt was getting soaked from “shaking out” the trees. But I did pick her up when Sarah walked to the entrance to ask a Home Depot employee when the next shipment of trees would be arriving. As we admired the 9-10 ft. firs, we talked about how much we wished we’d brought jackets and about the sticky sap that was all over my hands.

A few minutes later we were back in the caravan, windshield wipers wiping as we headed….to Lowe’s.

Lowe’s is only a couple miles from the Home Depot, and we turned the heat on full-blast as we sang Christmas carols at the top of our lungs with 104.7 The Fish, a local radio station that plays all Christmas music from Thanksgiving to Christmas. Unfortunately it takes a couple miles before the engine heats up enough to allow the car vents to actually blow hot air. So the hot air of our singing voices was about the only thing helping us get warm.

When we pulled into Lowe’s we parked in front of the outdoor Christmas tree section and walked through the cold drizzle towards the 7-8 ft. Fraser Firs. One other couple was already there. They were older than Sarah and I, and apparently wiser. They were both bundled up in warm coats. The woman was wearing ear muffs and the man was wearing warm gloves, no doubt sap-resistant.

Sarah and I looked at each other and our kids who were patiently huddled near us, and I said, “This is Christmas. This is not about stress, but about joy and creating memories with the family.”

“Don’t worry, we won’t forget this,” Sarah said.

A full twenty minutes later, Ethan patiently helping us pick a tree and Emma patiently snuggled in Sarah’s arms, her cold feet tucked under the bottom of Sarah’s shirt, we finally found the perfect tree. It was in the 7-8 ft. section, but measured more like 8’ 11’’. It stood straight. Its needles were green. Its branches were evenly dispersed. And its girth was not too thin and not too wide.

Now all that was left was tying it to the top of the van, driving it home, carrying it into the house, and securing it in one of those Christmas tree stands.

Memories…