“Dad! You know we always get the biggest tree we can find,” Theresa said. “And then we always spend ages cutting the end off,” Brendan reminded his sister. “Who’s this we?” Robert asked. “Looks like I’m the only one sawing at the moment.” “Hey, we’re holding it steady,” Brendan reminded him. Robert, along with Brendan and Theresa, had gone thirty miles outside of Boston to buy a Christmas tree at Doe Orchards in Harvard. It had become a tradition over the years to buy their tree as close to Christmas as possible, a tradition that was becoming increasingly difficult to keep as trees began appearing in neighbors’ windows earlier and earlier in December and surviving long into January. The other part of the tradition of course was that Kathy would complain about the tree—it was too big, too bushy, too thin, too lopsided, and, Robert’s favorite, too environmentally incorrect to cut down a live tree. But at least they had been spared Kathy’s complaining this morning, and, for that small mercy, Robert was grateful.
