The first snowflakes came that year on the first of December. It was early for sometimes we didn’t even have snow on Christmas day. It was getting to look a lot like Christmas at the mall and Christmas carols were already playing on the radio. I was getting impatient to get a Christmas tree and decorate it with all of the treasures we had accumulated from the previous years. 

            Mom said, “It’s way too early to get a tree now. The needles will turn brown and drop off before Christmas.”

            “We can get a tree at Grandma’s,” I insisted, “and it will be a fresh tree unlike the ones they haul in from the south.”

            I remembered all of the tall trees across the creek in front of Grandma’s house. There were trees that would touch the ceiling and that was important to me. 

            I argued, “and they will be free besides.   Can’t we at least just go and look. We don’t have to get it today,” I reasoned.

            “Well, OK, since your Dad is not working today, I guess we could,” Mom agreed.

            Excited by having convinced the family to go look for a tree, I put on my old brown shoes. I knew we would have to figure out a way to get through the tall weeds and across the creek to the hillside of trees. We might get wet and muddy.

            Hopping into the back seat of the old green Chevy we rode out to the country and parked in front of Grandma’s house. Looking across the creek I thought we had the greatest selection of trees in the entire world. I looked from tree to tree trying to select the perfect tree, one that would touch the ceiling in our sunporch.

            We found a place where we could stomp down the weeds and get to the creek. “Let’s cross here,” my Dad said. “Be careful. There are a lot of weeds and briars.”

There was a shallow place that looked as if we could cross over to the other side and some stepping stones to help us. If we were careful, we might not get too wet.

            I stepped on the mossy stones and so far I avoided getting my shoes wet or slipping. Two, three, four well-placed stones helped me to get nearer my goal. I spotted my tree. “There it is,” I yelled to Mom. Just then, not paying attention to where I was stepping, My foot slipped off the slick, moss-covered stone and my old brown shoes and sox stood covered with water.

            “Oh, well,” Mom said, “They’ll dry out. That’s why you wore old shoes.”

            Looking again at the trees, we neared the particular tree I had chosen. “My tree,” I said, envisioning how it would look in our house.” But as I got closer, my tree was a total disappointment. The back of the tree was completely flat having grown too close to all of the other trees right up against the hillside. What a disappointment! None of the other trees were suitable either.

            We made the trek back across the creek, wet shoes and sox squishing uncomfortably as I walked. I was silent on the way home with my lower lip stuck out and tears welling up in my eyes.

           
”We will get a tree,” Mom assured me. “Sometimes things just don’t work out like we plan. That’s no reason to give up.”

            Grandma’s perfect trees didn’t turn out as we expected, and that adventure was a complete flop. We didn’t look for a free tree again.