|
|
Side |
|
|
Return to Current IPS Features
|
"
I hope you got the Christmas tree you wanted." The cheerful woman
at the knotty pine table chirped, last Sunday as I paid for our tree. "The
tree I wanted," I replied, "apparently won't fit in our
house." We
go through it every year. Each
year I head with my family, to the Christmas tree farm armed with hopes
of finding that perfect tree. And every year, it goes down the same. "There
it is; the perfect tree!" I enthused this week, as I ran towards a
statuesque and full pine. My
husband looked at me as if I had just announced that I wanted to have
another child. "Are you out of your mind?" He asked, shaking
his head. "Look
at this guy!" I screamed, swinging my arms around, "He's
BEEEEE- OOOOO-TI-FUL! "Kimra."
My husband warned, looking stern. "Oh
no!" I responded, "Not in my yard! IN MY LIVING ROOM!" I
looked at that man hard. Why was he always raining on my parade? "I
think it will fit." I squeaked. "Do
you like your trees bent in half?" He answered. "Noooooooo."
I said, "but I think with a little bit of trimming, we can get this
big ole guy right into the house." "Honey,
be realistic." My husband pleaded. Being
realistic is not what I do best, so I begged for a few more minutes to
get that big tree home with me. "Pu LEEEZZZE!" I cried,
accompanied by my most pitiful cute face. Apparently, the
"cute" face isn't so cute after nearly twenty two years of
marriage, because my husband was not even fazed. In fact, he didn't even
momentarily soften as he might have in years gone by. Man oh man, I was
losing my touch, and that big tree wasn't coming home with me; he was
standing firm in his doomful prophesy that that guy wouldn't fit in our
home.
It is at this point every year that I get very bitter that I do not have
a bigger home. If only to accommodate my giant Christmas trees,
shouldn't I, didn't I deserve a home with twenty foot ceilings? Then my
bitterness turned to self-pity because I knew that there was no way in
heck we were going to move before Christmas this year to allow me a
place to put a monstrosity of a tree. Pity turned to resignation, and I
began to join the rest of the family in search of a tree that would
indeed fit in our sub-par living room. My
heart just wasn't in it, though. The trees which were sized to fit just
didn't fit my mental image of a stately Christmas tree, so I
trudged through the mud looking for the fattest tree I could find. If we
couldn't have height; at least we could have big old full tree, and
finally we agreed on one which would do. My
husband was very perky about it because this tree we settled upon
was a very short tree. Though full, this guy was vertically challenged
and I was none too happy about imagining that stunty fellow in my home. But
what is a girl to do? You've got to live within your means, and
sometimes that means a stumpy little tree that is yards shorter than you
would like. So when the chipper check-out lady inquired about my tree, I
had to tell her that no, indeed I did not get the tree of my dreams; but
that that tree would not even squeeze through the front door of my home. "Maybe
next year!" She enthused, perhaps thinking that by then I would get
that new home with the great tall ceilings which would indeed hold the
tree of my dreams.
|
