But things caught up with me, the way they always do. As usual I was busy growling about next year’s Christmas tree and what a pain in the neck the whole thing was. Then I got her letter. It arrived at the office one day when I was in a particularly bad mood. When my secretary buzzed me to let me know the helicopter pilot was waiting for me, I barked at her. “Let him wait!” I said. I closed the door and began to read. âť„ âť„ âť„ I was right. The crowds and the entertainment had all seemed overwhelming. She was wishing she hadn’t come. She was frightened. Worst of all, she didn’t recognize her tree in that place, surrounded by huge buildings instead of the sky, its branches weighed down with a brightness that all seemed false. Then the lights came on and way up at the top, the star. Here. I’ll let her tell you the rest. I was overcome by the memory of a star from long ago, she wrote.
