O Christmas Tree
Andrew Michaels pulled his woolen ski cap onto his bright red hair. He zipped up the thick fur-lined jacket and pulled on waterproof gloves. He opened the front door and stepped onto the sidewalk. Salt crunched below his boots, and crisp Winter air stung his nose. 'Christmas traditions,' he thought, 'nothing was better!'
Andrew drove to the National Forest entrance, waived his permit, and nodded to the man sitting in the heated booth. The truck was old but strong enough to climb the old logging roads in the Summer. He hoped the snow tires and chains he purchased last week would meet the challenge of the recent storm. Together, Andrew and the truck weaved along thread-white lanes which wove a patchwork quilt of the surrounding trees. He imagined the sight from above must be stunning.
The truck slowed as it crested the top of a snow-drifted hill and slid backward a few feet until it came to a stop. Andrew retrieved the saw his father, and grandfather, brought along on these trips. How many Christmas trees had this saw removed from this forest? Andrew recalled glimpses of his youth with fresh cut trees in the living room. 'Ahhh, Christmastime was here...' he thought.
Andrew lifted his legs high above white mounds of piled snow. He pulled the neck of his jacket closed against the biting wind. His heart skipped a beat as he looked across a small clearing and saw the top of the perfect tree. He approached and retrieved the tree with little effort. The burlap sack in his backpack fit the ball of the tree like a snug sock. He threaded and tied twine around the thick evergreen boughs to form a tight arrow of the tree. Then he lifted, huffed, and started the long hike back to the truck.
At home, Andrew decorated with abandon. There was never one clear theme to his Christmas trees. One year it might be gold, burgundy, and white. Another year all the colors of the rainbow danced with the childish ornaments hung from each branch with care. This year, the tree was classic. Large colorful light bulbs on thick electric wire-filled gaps. Rope of silver garland and thin tinsel strands hung like icicles from the tips of branches. Brreep! 'What was that,' Andrew wondered.
He went to the window and saw nothing but the blowing storm outside. He headed to the kitchen to check the timer on the oven. There were still another fifteen minutes on the ham he was roasting. "The fire alarm," he said and bolted for the staircase. Andrew reached high above his head to grasp the fire alarm. He balanced on one foot several steps up the long flight of stairs. The white Test button depressed beneath his finger and the wailing siren sent splinters of pain into his ears. He pressed the button again and retreated back to the tree. Maybe the sound was the horn of a passing vehicle. Andrew shrugged and continued to decorate.
After a dinner of ham, potatoes, and canned corn he retreated to the living room. A warm fire burned in the wood stove and the lights of the tree danced on the walls. He grabbed a thick blanket and sat down in his chair. The supple leather enveloped him, and he sighed with exhaustion. Before long, Andrew was fast asleep and dreaming of Christmas. Brreep!
Brreep!
The sound jolted Andrew from a comfortable sleep and worried him. Was the fire alarm acting up? Was the nine-volt almost dead and had just enough juice to call for help? The dying gasp of the one life-saving device in his home. That wouldn't do. He tossed the blanket aside, yawned, and walked to the kitchen to find another battery. He resolved to get a drink of water, or maybe some juice, on the way. Brreep! Andrew stopped mid-stride. That noise came from behind him! He spun on his right foot, planted the left, and darted back to the living room. Brreep! 'It was in the tree,' he realized. Something had come back from the forest with him, inside that tree. And now it was in his house!
Andrew started to root around at the top of the tree, looking for anything wild to remove. He found nothing. A few small ornaments fell to the ground. Tin soldiers, a small train engine, a golden star. He almost lost his balance on the footstool below him. At the moment before he tumbled backward, he caught the string of hot lights. The thick cord was enough to grasp onto and stopped him from falling, but the bulb singed his fingertips and left a swelling blister.
He squatted near the base of the tree. Still, nothing to find. When he bent over at the waist and leaned into the tree he forgot about the garland. A lanyard fixed itself around Andrew's neck and when he pulled back out of the tree it tightened. The silver noose clung to Andrew like the arms of a dancer. The scene might have been comedic, but the problem was the giant tree to which the silver cord was attached. The branches shook, and the tree swayed. The entire Christmas tower lurched forward and threatened to crash down on top of him. Andrew bent his knees and slipped the garland off his neck like a businessman removing his tie after a long day. The tree's weight pulled it back into position with a thud.
Standing back he glanced over the fresh-cut tree with alarm and frustration. The thick green branches now looked yellow and thin as bare spindles. Perhaps the tree was sick and he hadn't noticed. It was rather cold and the wind was distracting. He stepped forward to take a closer look and planted a barefoot right on top of a glass star and a tin soldier's sharp sword. "Yooowww!" He jumped back in shock. A rage flew into him over the condition of his tree, the dismantling of his hard work, the interruption of his sleep, and what now felt like a wasted day. He fell backward and landed in his lounge chair. Andrew plucked the soldier from his foot and assessed the situation. He shrugged and figured he would clean all this up in the morning. Brreep!
"What is that!" Andrew's face reddened and his hands curled into tight fists. With one motion he sprang to his feet, swept the fallen ornaments aside, and grabbed the tree by the trunk with a death grip. Brreep! He started to shake and throttle the tree. Needles and ornaments cascaded around him like multicolored confetti. Garland settled and coiled around his arms, and he kept shaking. Brreep! Brreep! Tinsel melted from the ends of pine needles and dropped to the floor in a puddle of ruined decorations. Brreep! Andrew lifted the trunk with one heaving effort, intent on hauling it to the front door and tossing it out into the front yard. Brreep!
A glint caught his eye. A small tin manger holding baby Jesus had dropped in his tantrum. The ornament fell into a small nest resting in the crook of a branch. The nest was visible now that the tree's leaves had fallen, littering the ground. Three small birds blinked at him from their humble home. Andrew set the tree down with the gentleness of a father with a newborn. He backed up, lowered himself into the leather chair, and smiled. In the dancing firelight, he watched the birds resting until he fell asleep.
THE END