Our First Christmas Tree

Christmas is one of those times of the year which is guaranteed to cause old memories to resurface.  We remember those we loved who are no longer with us, and if we are lucky, we remember the happy times we shared while they were here.  It is also a time to look back at years past and remember those moments which we have carried into the present with us and incorporated into our lives and celebrations. 

This year my Lovely Bride and I are again preparing to celebrate Christmas.  We will have a couple of the girls and their significant others over, as well as my mother-in-law, for Christmas Day.  So far, decorations have been limited to a few outside lights and a tree.  A new artificial, pre-lighted tree has taken center stage, but as I sit and look at it twinkling, I can't help but think of the first tree we shared back before we ever talked about getting married.

We were both in college; she was studying Food Science at Sam Houston State, and I was deep in clinicals at HBU.  I was living in a ramshackle apartment building in Montrose, existing on 'mater and onion sandwiches since money was pretty tight.  She would come down to Houston on weekends to type my papers and cook real food for me.  Even then, she was taking care of me.  One weekend in December she arrived, finding me sitting staring at the walls in a funk.  She decided I needed to have some sort of Christmas decorations to help cheer me up, and keep me from focusing solely on my upcoming mid-terms.  There was no money for a tree, but I had an old stand and a few decorations.  We loaded up in my '69 Dodge Dart and headed for the country.

I had grown up northwest of Houston on a remote farm which was still in the family.  A decade or so before, I had helped my father plant a thousand or so pine seedlings to try to control erosion.  Most had survived and young trees had sprung up amongst the more mature trees.  These small trees were the perfect size, and price, for us.  The pasture was pretty soggy from recent rains, so we walked the 1/4 mile or so to look for the perfect tree.  Looking back, the only thing which was perfect was the pricetag!  They were the wrong kind of trees, had never been shaped, and each had a multitude of bugs living in them.  But it was what we could afford.

We eventually picked out and cut a tree, and started dragging it across the pasture to the car.  As we got closer, cold drops of rain starting falling, causing us to drop the tree and duck into the hay barn.  We sat in the doorway watching the rain, and immediately every cow on the place headed towards us.  After all, the only time that door was opened was when it was feeding time.  My LB-to-be was fascinated by the cows milling about just inches away.  For a city girl, she got to experience a lot of firsts that day, yet never panicked.  She learned why you wear boots when you work around cows, and I think her love affair with living in the country started at that point.

I don't remember what that tree looked like after it was decorated, and no pictures exist.  I couldn't tell you what I received for Christmas that year.  Thirty five years later, what I do remember is us going together to pick it out, and in the process, learning more about each other and about ourselves together.