THE PERFECT CHRISTMAS TREE chapter 2

THE PERFECT CHRISTMAS TREE – chapter 2

A fictional story inspired by a non-fictional event

*+*+*

Our hunt continued!

*+*+*

Luke looked at his watch as the snow began falling a little harder. He mentioned, not sounding too happy that we’d been looking for MY perfect tree for the past three hours and didn’t I think it was time to settle for one and get home.

“After all, hon,” he said almost pathetically, “we both need to get up early tomorrow for work and I’m sure Trouble would like another walk.”

He was right of course, but that didn’t deter me from my mission.

Two hours and eight kiosks later, I found my tree! Tall and full, with the exact A-shape I’d hoped for.

It was perfect!

I pictured it standing in front of our living room window – ornaments hanging delicately and lights twinkling softly. I sighed and smiled lovingly at Luke.

“Oh, sweetheart, it’s so beautiful!”

My eyes dazed at the thought of it fully decorated, but then, something suddenly caught my attention and brought my mind back to the present.

I turned quickly thinking I’d heard a vicious growling dog approaching, stalking, preparing to attack. I braced myself and prepared to smack him in the head with my purse.

However, instead of a growling dog, it was Luke who had made that noise as he reached in his wallet for his credit card to pay the $175.00 bill for my perfect Christmas tree.

My heart jumped a bit at the cost, but the image of the completed tree placed a warm and tranquil feeling around my heart, and much to the dismay of my husband, I smiled again.

The snow was falling harder and faster, and I saw that Luke’s mood was getting as foul as the weather. He grumbled, “Do you realize, we’re about eight blocks away from home?” He didn’t sound happy at all.

I told him not to worry. With him taking the trunk of the tree and me carrying the top and thinner end, we’d be fine.

We weren’t!

As he lifted his end of the tree, he realized it was much heavier than we anticipated. When I lifted my end off the ground, as much as I could, the wood began to make an eerie noise. The top was so narrow that the groaning noise had me thinking the top would snap off or split in half.

I gently lowered my end and walked toward the center of the tree, thinking it would be more evenly balanced between us and thus, hopefully, suffer less harm from us carrying it home – not to mention, the ease on our arms and backs.

That didn’t work either as I found the middle of the tree to be much heavier than I expected. I couldn’t lift my half off the ground, at all!

I suggested to Luke that he should go home and get the car while I waited, holding on to our perfect tree.

Luke gave me a look as if I’d lost my mind, then gruffly told me that doing such a crazy thing meant he’d have to first release the car from the mounds of surrounding snow. Plus, he had no intention of starting a shoveling expedition at ten o’clock at night.

He looked at his watch again, and said, sarcastically and loudly, “Oh, sorry, sweetheart, I meant ELEVEN O’CLOCK at night!”

It was obvious we couldn’t carry the tree, so we opted to pull it. After walking to the base of the tree, Luke grabbed one large branch on one side, I grabbed another on the other side and we began tugging the tree along the long, VERY long Brooklyn, snow-covered streets.

*+*

Glancing back, I saw a faint trail of green pine needles in the snow that were caused by the dragging of my perfect tree.

My heart slumped with every needle lost.

After the first block, we found it necessary to stop for a few minutes and rest. Okay, so maybe Luke didn’t, but I surely did! My fingers ached; my back ached, and the image of my perfect tree standing in my living room was slowly fading.

I closed my eyes and tried again to picture the finished product. I smiled and once again, my hopes of getting the tree home and intact, were renewed – even if that renewal was quickly slipping away.

At every corner, I found I needed to stop and catch my breath. My body used muscles I never knew existed and each one began to scream in pain. The areas under and around my shoulder blades burned as if they were on fire. My fingers numbed from the circulation slowing caused by the firm grip I had on the heavy, cold branch.

Yet, I kept picturing my perfect tree with its pretty new ornaments and twinkling lights in the dim light of my living room in front of my window where you could see the gently falling snow.

It was the perfect image for my perfect tree.

I kept imaging that perfect picture to make our trek home seem a bit shorter and more pleasant.

Luke didn’t see the same picture I saw. What he saw as a huge, very heavy tree, wrapped in netting for the trip home. A too huge tree, too heavy to carry. A tree that should have been tied to the top of our car – I car I convinced him we didn’t need since we wouldn’t be walking too far from home. The same tree we still needed to get up to our sixth-floor apartment.

I almost began seeing my perfect tree in the same light as Luke.

At that point, I thanked God for elevators!