by Trish LaPlaca
Holidays
“This can’t be it,” I said to my friend Donna.
I slowed the car down at the curve of busy Route 6 in Seekonk, Massachusetts. Sure enough, a crude white sign with a faded outline of a Christmas tree announced X-MAS TREES in red. Beyond it was a large front yard of burnt grass that led to a modest one level home.
“But where are the trees?” I asked.
‘‘Good question,” Donna replied. “Strange.”
I turned the car into the long driveway and immediately saw the side door of the house swing open. An amusing looking older gentleman wearing a green plaid flannel shirt and red crocheted stocking hat with white trim strode out.
Well, Ho, Ho, Ho and welcome,” he said with a warm grin as we alit from the car. “I’m Fred. I take it you girls are looking for a Christmas tree?”
“I am,” I clarified. “But excuse me ~ I don’t understand. I don’t see any trees. Where could they be?”
Fred chuckled. “You’ll see. I hope you have some good shoes for a trek!”
Donna and I followed Fred to the farthest end of his back yard where a haphazard looking collection of pine trees stretched for possibly a quarter mile beyond. Together we began to pass through some stately and thriving trees, while others stood spindly and forlorn. Tree after tree, Fred seemed to have a story to go with each of them.
“See one that strikes your fancy?” Fred asked me.
“I actually only need a small one,” I answered somewhat apologetically. “My apartment is tiny.”
“Ahh. Then let’s find you a good one, not much taller than yourself,’ he said with a teasing gleam in his eye.
And that he did. Minutes later, Fred was helping us load my little “Charlie Brown” tree into the car.
“You girls hungry for some home made pizza? My wife just made some. I’m sure she’d love for you to join us.”
My friend and I were honored to be welcomed into their home. On the way back, we couldn’t help but comment on the kind and gentle love that we had sensed between them. Donna and I were both single. We each hoped to find that kind of love in our own lives some day.
…….
The next two Decembers I returned to Fred’s tree farm. That last visit was especially meaningful to me.
As Fred, my new fiancé, and I threaded through the trees, I found myself growing disappointed that none of the trees ‘my size’ were very pretty at all. I wasn’t so sure that I would be able to find one.
Fred stopped. “Hey, now there’s one for you,” he exclaimed. I looked to where he pointed. Fred was right. Not much taller than my own five feet, this perfectly symmetrical and adorable tree would be my ‘the one’ for this year.
But then my heart sank.
“Oh,” I said. “But there’s a tag on it. Doesn’t that mean that it’s already been claimed by someone?”
“Hmmm. Let’s see,” said Fred. “Double check.”
I reached up and turned the manila tag over to where the writing was.
“Teacher” it said, in an unsteady hand. My eyes filled.
Fred grinned.
“I hope you don’t mind that I took the liberty of picking one out for you. I just thought that my favorite little teacher would especially like this one.”
My new husband and I moved away that next year, and I sent Fred and Anna a Christmas card and letter. It was important that I let them know just how special they had made those few holidays for me. This sweet couple hadn’t really known me at all, and yet they made me feel as if they did ~ and even more, that they cared enough to go out of their way to surprise me. Some thirty-plus years later, that simple memory of Fred and Anna on their Christmas tree farm hasn’t waned. I only hope to pay their kindness forward somehow; if only in effort to be a similar positive force in my own small world.
Indeed. It’s in the little things.
HAPPY HOLIDAYS!
Trish LaPlaca
