The Slow-Cooked Sentence

The pocket tree

Rachael Conlin Levy
The tree

The men in my family came home with a tree just 2 feet tall. The boxes of holiday decorations hauled out of the attic dwarfed the tree. My 3-year-old son dwarfed the tree. The cat dwarfed the tree.

What were you thinking? I asked. The tree was too tiny to hold a string of lights, too tiny for most ornaments, too tiny to scent the home with pine, but my Grinchy thoughts were ignored. 

In five minutes, the tree was trimmed. My daughter lay at its base and set up the Nativity, my youngest son kissed all the ornaments, my husband hung leftover decorations from the jackalope while my older boys settled down to read Christmas stories. 
Later, I walked past the tree and caught the faintest whiff of pine, so I stooped over for a big sniff and got poked in the eye. You win, I told the tree, rubbing my eye and laughing at how Christmas is coming despite my protests.

Our tree, 2010

2 responses to “The pocket tree”

  1. Andrea says:

    Sweet! It's like your very own Charlie Brown Christmas.

  2. It's cute. I love it! 🙂 Our tree is a 19.99 Douglas Fir from G&G; Nursery. It kind of made me depressed that we weren't getting a tree from our usual spot. When we got it home all I could think about was how ugly it was. But, after we decorated it, I felt much better. I told Jonathan the other morning that I thought it was beautiful. 🙂 I think my thyroid meds are working :):) Today I showed Solomon on a map where you live. He told me that he really misses Max and Sam.

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