Seasons

Seriously, the largest trees we have ever seen are the Redwoods. Hundreds of feet tall; the tallest 380 feet tall. And, these trees are so big around, our family of five couldn’t even come close to reaching all the way around them even if we held hands and stretched our arms as wide as we could. We would only make it about a third of the way. We could park our car inside one of these trees. When we returned to New York after this trip, our trees looked like toothpicks compared to those trees we had seen in California. There is no sight like those enormous trees that we saw out west. It was amazing to see our daughters running up and down and all around the forest like they were in a giant’s playground.

It wasn’t just the trees that I missed when we returned. 

The air seemed fresher, wetter, greener, boggier, mossier, cleaner among the trees. The ground was soft and forgiving and dirty and real. The sky was blue and foggy and then raining and then white puffs of clouds all at the same time; it was sweatshirt weather and shorts weather and snow and sandals all on the same day weather. You could touch a cloud and stand in a waterfall. Climbing a tree was as easy as walking up the stairs. Rainbows appeared around every corner, and so did salamanders and frogs and slugs the size of dessert plates. Our daughters ran and played and explored freely. They learned to respect nature and all its beauty. We all became tree huggers, literally!

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They came home with the tiniest, saddest looking sticks. These pathetically limp, brown paper towel wrapped sticks were supposed to be placed in a hole that was at least twelve inches deep? I doubted that the person giving the instructions knew that these future trees my daughters were holding in their small hands were barely a foot long right now. But, in honor of Earth Day, we ceremoniously dug holes in the back corner of our back yard. The girls gingerly placed their baby trees into their new homes and begged them to take root. The hose was pulled across the lawn, but it was too short. One daughter ran around to the front yard to fetch the second hose so we could extend the back hose. The trees needed water, and fast! 

Those trees grew every year. Branch built on branch, up and up they grew, a few inches some years, several inches other years. Somehow those trees are now taller than the girls. We would marvel at those trees each spring. Thinking back to just how little they were when they first arrived, and how big and beautiful they are now. Very much like our daughters, so small and fragile when they first arrived, and how strong and beautiful they are now. Everything and everyone needs love, and a bit of water and attention along the way. I believe it was all the hugs.

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She wanted The Lorax. That’s all she wanted. I’m still not sure to this day why she wanted it. She didn’t want the stuffed animal. She didn’t want the movie. She didn’t want or need a thneed. She wanted The Lorax. And for some impossible reason, because now it was a “new” sensational movie, the book was all the more difficult to find. Every book store showcased the movie version. Every book had the movie image on the front cover and this wasn’t what she wanted. If she was to really get her wish, she would have an autographed copy of The Lorax but that wasn’t happening! 

I bought the board book. I bought the easy reader version of this book. I bought the coloring book.  None of these books fit the image in her mind. And I knew exactly what she was picturing. She wanted the one we had read from the library. The one with the Lorax on the cover. She didn’t want all the neon and fancy. She wanted just the book. It turned into a scavenger hunt of sorts, my mom was searching in her area, my brother in his; we had family looking in three different states. 

One glorious day a package arrived. It was addressed to my youngest daughter. She knew that many people cared about her a whole awful lot and her world did just get better. 

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My sister-in-law has one of those Hallmark movie trees. You know the kind I am talking about. The perfect one that you only ever see in the glossy magazines when you sit in a doctor’s office. She has all silver ornaments, with tiny twinkling white lights that never burn out; her bows are perfectly knotted and spaced. The tree is symmetrical and centered on the wall and the tree skirt matches not only the tree theme, but also the living room decor. She is the person I would most want to be, but could never be.

Then there is my sister who has her tree in her newly renovated living room. It sits beside her gas fireplace. Framed family photos hang on the wall behind the tree; everyone smiling brightly. Pictures of their family adventures to Italy, Costa Rica, Hawaii. She has a passport filled with stamps. Her house is inviting, yet you can also sense the anticipation of what is coming next. They are a family that is always in motion.

Mom and dad have a tabletop tree these days. The full size tree went away about when dad retired. They are still able to fit quite a few of their parents fragile ornaments on their tree. The ones that are so beautiful and delicate they take your breath away with their glitter and detail. Each year the glass feels thinner. Much like my parents seem to shrink and appear more fragile each year. They need more gentle handling, more time to place, a slower pace. 

My mother never approves of our tree. But I love it. Our tree has changed from real to artificial to real and now back to the saddest looking fake tree a store could ever legally sell. And, yes, I overpaid. One year only half of it lit. The bottom half. It’s okay. It pretty much resembles our life. The only ornaments allowed to hang from its branches are handmade ornaments. These are mostly the ones made by our daughters, but some have been given to us by nieces and nephews too. There are paper angels and wooden Popsicle stick reindeer and glass ornament snowmen. There are hand prints and snowflakes. There are plastic lids, CDs, and coasters with school pictures smiling out at me with dates written on the backsides. There are play dough Santas and Rudolphs that hang by paper clips. I wouldn’t trade my tree for any other tree. To me, our tree is perfect and beautiful. 

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Come quick! We are all here! Come sit down! You’re missing it!  

We are all, the five of us gathered together around the tree in the living room, my laptop in my lap. 

On my screen there are five trees.  

Five different places. 

Twenty faces. 

All smiling through our tears to say, Merry Christmas.