A DIFFERENT KIND OF CHRISTMAS TREE
As newlyweds, my husband and I moved to west Texas. I was 23 and far from home. The Saturday before Thanksgiving, my father died suddenly in the front yard of our Nashville home where I grew up. He had been raking leaves and listening to the Vanderbilt football game. I hope Vandy was winning.
After the whirlwind funeral trip, we came back to our tiny apartment. We bought a Christmas tree the next day. Putting out my first tree with all my childhood ornaments was cathartic, but, as trees do, it dropped all its needles the week before Christmas and I couldn’t stand to look at it in its dry, dead state. My patient, loving husband threw it out and boxed up the ornaments.
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