Ode to The Christmas Tree

  Every year we keep our Christmas tree as long as possible.  I'm not talking New Year here, I mean July or in this case October.  We take the ornaments off but we usually keep the tree in the garage because it is of course dead and the needles get everywhere.  This year we had a live tree.  Now to give you the proper mental image understand that we never have a tree taller than about 4 feet.  This year I let the girls have the tree in their room.  I knew it would probably die if left too long, our house has a reputation to uphold.  We've actually killed every plant brought inside in the last three years, except for a very sickly but tenacious amaryllis that has never had more than one leaf.  The girls really wanted the tree so I left it, knowing it would die but hoping it would teach them and hoping to give them a memory.  Imagine them in their thirties, missing their previous close relationship saying "remember the year we had the dead tree in our room?"  Yesterday I had enough.  The tree needs to go girls, it's messy and dead.  We started the purge.  Imagine my surprise when my son was the one pouting.  The girls are excited talking about the new tree they will plant and raise in the pot outside.  My son is carefully petting the dead tree.  "What is wrong?"  I ask.
"The tree, the Christmas tree.  Oh, Mom, look at it's nice dead branches and it's not very tallness.  Oh, it's so pokey and dead and see how it's needles fall when I touch it."  With a sad sigh and a sadder pout.  He gently caresses the tree and kisses a branch.  A tear in his eye he proclaims quietly "I shall miss you tree, even though you are actually pretty ugly."  My initial shock over his reaction quickly turned to mirth but as I didn't wish to offend I kept my laughter for later and instead left him to eulogize on his own for a moment before saying my own solemn farewell.  The girls meanwhile were looking through gardening books for their next victim, I mean tree.