How Bob Saved Christmas

There was a lot about Christmas that was different that year. I was going through a break up with my wife that was really hard on my two children, 12 and 15. She’d been their step-mother for seven years, and they were very attached. Well, we all were. Christmas was her favorite time of year, so with all of this happening during the holidays, it made it especially heavy.

It was a few weeks before Christmas, and as I watched my kids from across the room, I felt a sadness in the air that hung stale there. An idea tickled me, then filled me with anticipation. I wanted to take Christmas back and redefine it together, creating new memories and traditions that were all our own. We needed an outing! “Hey guys,” I said, “why don’t we go pick out a Christmas tree?” I knew of a Christmas tree farm down the mountain from where we lived and thought this was just the adventure we needed to cheer us up.

They jumped up with enthusiasm, and we piled into my old silver Xterra. The energy shifted from sad and dreary to something much more lighthearted. Benjamin and Esther were extra silly as we made our way down those winding mountain roads to our destination, our trip fueled by intoxicating laughs and giggles. We drove into the tree-lined farm decorated with warm, glimmering lights and watched bundled up families scattered and searching through rows of cut trees. As we opened the door, we were met with a sudden chill that carried with it the smell of pine and fresh cut wood. There’s nothing quite like that smell. It reminded me of my childhood growing up amidst the tall pines. For me, it was the scent of winter.

I asked Benjamin and Esther to pick a Christmas tree together, and without hesitation, they ran off. I walked for a while, taking in all of the beautiful smells and smiled as I saw children running around without a care in the world. It was the first time in a long time I had some relief from all of the heavy feelings I carried, and I drank it all in as if finding water after being long-parched in a desert. After some time, I saw my munchkins running toward me, and in that moment, I felt like I could breathe deeper somehow. “It’s going to be okay after all,” I said to myself, their smirky giggles and grins to each other reassuring me of that.

“Mom!” they said. “We found the perfect tree! We know you’ll love it.” I sensed mischief in their voices as they both took me by the hand and pulled me towards their new-found treasure. In the middle of one of the rows of Christmas trees, both Benjamin and Esther proudly pointed to what I can only imagine was the saddest looking tree on the lot. It was missing a couple of limbs, leaving a rather large hole in one side, causing it to lean quite drastically. My eyes welled up as they each told me in their own way that they picked this tree because it really needed a good home. All Christmas trees deserve to be enjoyed in warm homes, decorated and adored, after all. I was so proud of their tender hearts and felt so much joy at the contentment of their decision.

We strapped the tree to our old car and began to drive home. I asked Benjamin and Esther what they’d like to name the tree. In the back of the car, I could hear whispers and bickering broken up by giggles, and shortly after, in unison, they said his name was Bob. I didn’t question it. It just felt right. Bob, the Christmas tree. We drove him home and pulled out our Christmas decorations, and we dressed Bob up while drinking hot apple cider. Turning the side with the hole against the cabin corner, we covered him in ribbon and beads and adorned him with homemade ornaments I’d kept from when the kids were young. I’m not sure we had ever been happier than we were decorating that tree and making Bob as beautiful on the outside as we knew he deserved to feel.

This was our first Christmas together alone, and it was a really good Christmas. In some strange way, Bob helped us to heal. We thought we were saving a tree, but looking back, I realize that it was really him that saved us.