We thought it was a forest,this John's Trees on Kedzie Avenue. A forest with strung light bulbs that lit up all the Christmas trees. Rows and rows of them..for us to run through as daddy spent time on a few,picking them up and shaking off the snow,stomping it on the ground so it would open up. Oh,how cold we got hiding from each other,our noses getting bright red and sniffling,our fingers tingling,our toes frosting through our boots. But,we didn't care...it was magic,this Tree Forest on a busy street.
When we saw dad holding up a tree in an aisle,we rushed over to him,knowing that our opinion was to be asked for,and with glee we nodded that this was the one to be our Christmas tree. We giggled as we piled in the back seat of the Chevy with our piece of the forest proudly tied with twine on the top of the car. We hurriedly wrote our names on the window glass as they steamed up from out breath. And then we began to squirm and wiggle,kicking each other for getting too close to our space on the seat,arguing about who would set up the manger under the tree,and who would be the first to put on the tinsel,and whom would dad lift up to put on The Star?
Oh,how I miss the forest and being small. But I miss my dad most of all.
Such sweet memories of getting your Christmas tree. Sound like a fun family memory. Those are the best to hold close to your heart.
ReplyDeleteSweetness to you.
Love this......we lived in the forest,a log home. I would climb up the loft to trim the top of the tree.Papa cheering me on......it's been along time now but I miss you Papa,always.
ReplyDeleteIt felt like you were telling my own family story about tree hunting--just another reason why the "personal" is "universal."
ReplyDeleteI didn't have those wonderful Dad memories - til now, watching my husband live that out with my kids. You don't have to have a good father to know the power of one in your life. Sweet story. Merry Christmas.
ReplyDeleteYou made the story come to life. I could see the imagery before my eyes.Holidays bring nostalgic memories to mind. I too had the father who was so strong, who sawed the trunk off the tree so it would fit in the house. He made Christmas cookies shaped like snakes. Dad was adult and child all mixed together! My Dad was unique and I hold him dear to my heart. Thanks Suz your memories have kindled the memories of your readers and we are all connected because of it!
ReplyDeleteI miss my dad too :(
ReplyDeleteIt touched me so that you all related to my tree story. Cottage child...you..most of all...I don't know you, but you seem to have risen above a lot of turmoil in your life..and survived.. to love and be loved....Bless the man you love and the man who is the father of your children
ReplyDeletewhat a sweet story. i could picture a back seat full of excited children...writing on the foggy windows...precious!!!!
ReplyDeleteSuch a beautiful memory.
ReplyDeleteI am so blessed, Suz. And while you're right, there was a lot of turmoil in the early days, I let it continue as a nice long spell of self-created drama way past necessary. Getting out of my own way was the key, with no one to blame but myself for a lot of the difficulty. Peace, friend, and again, sweet, sweet story. I love reading about good Daddys.
ReplyDeleteCottage woman...bless your healing...don't blame...let go let it blow in the wind...and be gone
ReplyDelete