I remember the year Dad wanted a real
Christmas tree rather than the fake tree we'd decorated forever. It was years ago, I was eight years old,
Billy was 11. We lived in Seattle; Dad
heard about a farm near La Conner Washington that let you cut your own tree
down and take it home.
Mom wasn't excited about it. She thought it was a lot of work. They argue a lot - Mom and Dad, mostly about
things that seem meaningless.
"Billy, you ready to go cut down the
tree?" I was excited. I pushed him back and forth in his bed. I knew he was awake but his eyes were closed
with the little white ear buds stuck out of his head like Frankenstein. One eye opened. He liked to be left alone- especially with
his music.
"Come on, let's go," I
repeated. His one eye closed and his
face curved into a smile. I ran to the
kitchen to rally Mom and Dad. I crept
slowly to listen to their continued argument from earlier.
"It doesn't cost much and it's family
time," Dad was negotiating.
"We already have a tree. It will be messy," Mom retorted.
"Let's go kids," Dad yelled up at
the ceiling, I poked my head around the corner, "maybe you can go with the
kids, I would love to stay..."
"Hey sweetheart, ready to go?"
Dad asked. I wondered if they knew how
silly they acted when they fought.
"Family car ride," Dad bellowed
it out, "to get the Christmas tree," like he was singing the national
anthem. Mom resigned, she threw her arms
to her sides and grabbed for her jacket from the hook, "are we bringing
the dog too?" Mom asked from inside
her heavy winter coat.
"He's in the family isn't
he?" Dad answered bending down to
Winston's level shaking his hips mimicking the dog wagging his tail. Winston played along. I always smiled when dad acted silly.
"Winston, come-on, car ride? Where's Billy?" Looking at me. I shrugged my shoulders as I stood by the
kitchen door.
"Billy?" He yelled.
"Can you stop yelling?" Mom interrupted, "why do you have to
yell? I'll get him," Mom headed up
the stairs.
"You're excited for a real tree right
pumpkin face?" My Dad's face looked
so hopeful, yearning. I couldn't tell
him anything but what he needed to hear.
"Yeah Dad," I replied while
twirling the words with my hips.
"You'll see, it'll be
magnificent. The smell so wintry and
everything. Best Christmas ever - starts
with the tree," he pulled his jacket over his shoulders and checked his
watch. I could see he was about to yell
again but stopped as he saw Mom and Billy coming down the stairs. Billy had his hoodie over his head and his
ear buds still blocking out the world.
"No electronics. No iPads, pods, robots - family time,"
Dad exerted. Billy's face contorted.
"Just let him listen, let's go,"
Mom walked past, meeting adjourned. Dad
stood for a moment, pulled the leash out of his pocket and we went out the
door.
***
The city looked cold, steam seemed to leak
out of everything; people's mouths, exhaust, chimneys. As we drove, I watched the houses get fewer
and fewer; replaced by hills. The rolling
mounds flattened out like the sheets on my bed.
The cold streets and buildings replaced with reddish brown fields and
trees with the last remnant of fall connected to distal branches. I wondered if every animal was hibernating, I
secretly wished sweet dreams to all of the furry creatures.
Billy's eyes were closed, with his ears
plugged. Mom and Dad argued over map
locations and routes on their phones.
Winston laid in the back hatch of the Subaru wagon, one eye slitted,
probably keeping a vigilant watch for the Vet's office; the most common reason
for a car ride.
We turned down a road dissecting farmland
flat and free. The hills had unrolled
like bread kneaded to a thin consistent layer of smooth crust. I couldn't see any tree farms.
Dad slowed when we neared a parked car at
the side of the narrow two lane road. It
was an older kind of car you see driving around during the State Fair. It was round and smooth at every angle and
the top just seemed to go on forever.
"Cold day to have a car stall,"
Dad whispered.
"There he is up ahead," Mom responded. A man walked along the shoulder. His hands in his pockets, a red checkered
hat. As we approached he turned.
"We have to stop right?" Dad
asked.
"Really?" Mom responded,
"he's probably fine," but she knew as did I there would be no leaving
him. She sighed, rolled down her window,
"hi, you look like you could use a hand?"
"Oh, hello folks, Nah. She breaks down more often than a locomotive
in high altitude," he pointed back to the car, his statement was lost to
me.
"Can we give you a lift?" Dad leaned
over Mom's chest speaking through the window.
"Well, it's just up over the ridge,
but these old knees aren't what they used to be," he took his hands out of
his pockets and blew on them.
"It's no problem," Dad
added. Mom opened her door and stepped
out, she squeezed into the back and scooted Billy next to me. Winston's head peeked over nosing Mom,
"lay down Winston."
"Thanks' Ma'am," he stated as he
sat down removing his hat, "the name's Charlie...Charlie McPherson,"
he stuck out his hand.
"Pleased to meet you, this is my wife
Sharon, Billy and Nellie," Dad pointed us all out in the back, "I'm
Stan."
"Greetings and thank you," he
said again looking back at us. He stared
at Billy for a moment and turned to Dad, "boy's got a hearing
problem?" Motioning to Billy's ear buds.
"No, no, just his music player,"
Dad said. Charlie looked back with a
confused face and then held a gentle smile on me. His face was wrinkled and stained with the
sun. He wore beige overalls and a red
flannel shirt.
He turned and sat forward, "what's got
you good folks coming all the way out here?"
"Christmas tree," Dad answered.
"Oh yes. Family occasion indeed,"
he smiled.
"Do you know where the Christmas Tree
farms are located?" I asked.
"Hmmm.
Never heard of that before, farms just for Christmas trees?"
"I knew you took the wrong turn on
highway 20," Mom leaned forward from the back.
"Now hold on, just cause I aint' heard
of it doesn't make it so," Charlie interrupted before Dad had a chance to
rebut.
"My family's been farming out here for
years. As far back as three
generations. But people are coming out
from the city, especially since the war and who knows what they're doing."
Billy and I looked at each other, wondering
if this guy was for real.
"Not a bad idea though, trees for
Christmas. People cut their own. Sounds like fun. The traditional way if you ask me."
"We've always had a fake tree, never
had a real one before," I said.
"Fake tree, how you come by
that?" Charlie asked. Before we could answer he pointed up at the
driveway Dad was about to pass.
"Right here captain, this is the
one."
The drive was an old bumpy gravel road
barely wide enough for the Subaru wagon.
Tall cedar trees as high as the sky abutted the side of the road like
pawns on a chess board. At the end of
the drive a modest white house stood like a bookend. As Dad approached he slowed, I could see a
chicken coop and an old tire swing.
"That's just fine, thanks for the
lift."
"You have a beautiful house," Mom
stated.
"Would you folks like a cup of tea? Warm up a little? Some hot chocolate? The least I can do."
"Yeah, yeah, please?" I pleaded.
"Well, we could briefly," Dad
prodded. He knew, as did all of us Mom
was the deciding vote. Everyone looked
back at Mom. She loved to make
decisions, but hated to be the one put on the spot.
"All right, briefly, Winston here will
get restless in the car," she turned and looked at Winston holding up the
back hatch.
"How about Winston can run
around. Chicken's in the coop, I'm sure
he'd love to wake those old birds a little," Charlie chuckled. We all got out, even Billy left his hearing
aid in the car. I jabbed at him about
it. The farm was so wide open it seemed
to go on forever. A big barn slept a
short walk from the house - looked older than the man; the red paint turning to
brown and grey like Dad's hair. We let
Winston out, whose tongue licked the air curiously, and then he took off
running - straight for the chicken coop.
We were in the movies - Dorothy and the
Wizard of Oz. Endless fields, trees that
touched the heavens. The house shimmered
in the golden sunlight. Black shutters
hugged the windows. The porch to the house
made a creaky sound like it winced as we stepped on it. We entered the house and it smelled like old
memories. The furniture was pasty and
the area rugs were circular with faded colors.
"Come in. Come in," he waved his
arms and moved toward the kitchen and put on the kettle. Even that seemed make-believe with a fat
spout and a round body - I was expecting it to come to life like in a Disney
movie. Mom and Dad were quiet- I noticed
neither were talking, nor arguing. I
slipped my hand into Mom's.
"What a classic and traditional
home. Very cozy," Mom said.
"Been this way for years, didn't have
the heart to move anything around - something comforting in keeping it the
same."
Billy found the National Geographic
collection on the bookcase, his eyes popping out of his head.
"Family owned the farm for years you
said?" Dad asked.
"Yep, forever it seems. At least since the 1880's, before the
railroad. I have a picture of when those
cedars were barely tall enough to climb," Charlie motioned to the front
walk through a large window. Dad studied
the view he seemed lost in time. Charlie
pulled a small framed picture from the bureau and handed it to Dad. The photo was black and white of the house
and drive - the date in the corner read 1902.
The trees were only shrubs but the house looked exactly the same.
The teapot began to sing, more like wheeze.
"Ah, I've some of the best tea - you
seem like a jasmine type lady? Captain?
You like English Breakfast?"
"That's lovely thanks," Mom
smiled. Charlie was right, Mom did like
jasmine.
"Son, if you see anything you like,
please feel free to take it with you.
Those've gathered enough dust," he added.
"Now, as for you young lady. Do you like a thick velvet hot
chocolate? Cause I only make the kind
that tastes like melted chocolate bars," Charlie bent down to my eye
level, his hands holding himself up at the knees. There was a sparkle in his eyes.
"Yummy," it was beyond looking to
Mom and Dad for permission.
I watched as Charlie began stirring at an
old pot for a few minutes. His body was
awkward standing over the old gas stove.
His suspenders holding up thick canvas pants. He should've been outside stacking fire wood
or something, but instead he was creating what would be the greatest cup of hot
chocolate I've ever had.
Charlie brought the saucer down and set it
in front of me and another for Billy.
The liquid inside was velvet brown and shimmered.
"Thank you Charlie," I said. Everyone smiled. It was a moment I won't forget. An instance in time really. All of them, Billy and Dad and even Mom
smiling all with a joy that seemed ancient and cozy like the cedar trees. Can joy be cozy?
That is when I noticed Charlie pouring a
cup that he set aside on the stove. I
inspected Mom with her cup, Dad sipping his tea, Billie was gulping the hot
liquid and Charlie held a cup in his hand.
I wondered whose was on the stove.
I started to look for what I hadn't seen. The piano along the wall, the two facing
recliners, and a pair of chairs in the kitchen.
Where was Charlie's wife?
"Charlie? Are you married?" My eyes found their way to the cup of tea on
the stove. Charlie glanced at the cup as
well.
"That's rude sweetheart," Mom
scolded.
"Sorry Charlie," Dad said. Which sounded even worse.
"No, no. Sweet child.
Thank you for asking. Curiosity
is a gift; a blessing like fertilizer to the imagination," Charlie stalled
and walked toward the piano.
"My Beatrice, Bea passed away not long
ago. Her heart gave out." The room became somber. Even Billy looked up from the goldmine of
history he'd unearthed.
"Bea was the love of my life. My left and my right foot. She was so strong. But there's just so many heart beats and Bea
used all her's up taking care of me."
I looked up at Dad. His eyes were glossy, like the moon on a
lake. Mom's eyes were low and hanging.
"I guess I just couldn't think of
making a cup of tea without thinking of Bea.
How she would have enjoyed your company.
She lived for family," he removed the picture from the piano and
handed it to me, "There ain't a thing in this world I wouldn't give to
share a cup of tea with my Bea."
Beatrice was a beauty - she stood in a
field with nothing but sky behind her.
She wore a bathing suit - the kind with the skirt. Her smile made me smile.
"She's beautiful," I said. Charlie just nodded, the wrinkles on his face
were telling stories.
"Thank you for sharing the tea and hot
chocolate with us. And for inviting us
into your beautiful home," Mom stated.
Charlie just nodded, without speaking he accepted Mom's gratitude.
"What's say we get that car started
Charlie?" Dad interrupted.
"Oh, no. No. That old thing just needs a little gas in the
carburetor and off she'll go."
"I insist."
"Well, if you insist," Charlie
smiled. Mom was glad too. I walked over to the window and noticed a willow
tree in the backyard. Its branches
dangling - washing over itself like a fountain.
Winston laid on the frozen grass just outside the chicken coop.
We all walked outside, Billy stayed close
to me - teased me a little, running and tempting me to play tag. I chased him around the wagon. We both looked back at the house.
"Kind of a weird guy," Billy
whispered.
"Yeah, good hot chocolate
though."
"None of those National Geographic's
were dated after 1959," Billy added.
"So?" I asked.
"Well, he had every month for like
thirty years."
"What happened in 1959?" I
asked. He shrugged and then pushed me a
little and ran off again. Winston joined
in the chase, nipping at Billy's ankles.
I loved how Winston always took my side.
We gave Charlie a ride back to his
car. Sure enough, the car started right
up. The smile on Charlie's face was like
Santa Claus, Dad's too. I watched as
Charlie and my Dad shook hands. My Dad
reached in and gave Charlie a hug. Billy
gave Charlie one of those side hugs, where half his body remained open like the
minute hand at six fifteen. My Mom
stepped out and shook his hand with both of hers, I couldn't hear but I'm sure
she thanked him again for the tea.
Manners first she always said.
Charlie came over to the window and leaned in.
"You liked that hot chocolate?"
"Yes Charlie, thank you," I said
with a grin.
"Come back sometime," I opened
the door and popped out. I hugged his
legs and my tears came. I was
overwhelmed, I couldn't exactly understand why, but there they were. Charlie smiled and hugged me back but didn't
say anything.
We all watched as he got into his car. The lights came on, even though it wasn't
dark. It lurched forward and off he
went. His hand floated out the window
and waved back. After a moment or two,
Dad turned the car around and we went back the opposite direction. No one spoke for a time. The silence was a stranger to us.
"What'd you say we pick up a tree from
the YMCA lot and head home?" Dad
asked. No one argued. Billy looked out the window. I watched their faces - my family.
***
Dad pulled over for gas near the
interstate. It was getting late. The blue sky turning a shade darker mixed
with red, like someone brushed the sky with a purple paint brush. I got out with him. I always helped Dad pump gas.
"Do you think Charlie gets
lonely?" I asked.
"Yeah, I suppose so."
"Must be hard to run a farm all by
yourself," I said.
"I'm sure he has help honey."
"He's got the chicken's to keep him
company," I said. Dad and I both
giggled as I followed him inside. I
picked out some red licorice for me, sunflower seeds for Billy. Dad was already paying when I slid them up.
"Oh, and these please," Dad
added, "hey, I was wondering if you know where the Christmas tree farms
are located?" Dad asked the young
man behind the counter.
"Yeah, we always got ours at the old
McPherson farm, off highway 20."
I gripped Dad's hand tightly and looked up
at him. Dad looked down at me, his face
spoke so many words without ever opening his mouth.
"Thanks," Dad replied. He lifted me up and carried me to the car.
"Hey, pumpkin face, let's not mention
it to Mom and Billy. Just our secret
okay?"
"Okay Daddy."
I kept our secret.
Years later after getting my driver's
license - I drove out to highway 20.
Took me a few extra turns and a lot of memory but I found a huge field
of pine trees. Rows and rows. Nestled into the middle of them was Charlie's
house. Some of the cedars were gone, a
few towered over the driveway still. The
barn was gone and so was the chicken coop.
But the house still had that shimmer like it was being kissed by an
angel.
The end.
