The
Christmas Challenge
By
Linda Boltman
The Christmas Challenge© copyright 2011 Linda Boltman
All rights reserved
Thank you for downloading this free eBook. You are welcome to share it with your friends. Although this is a free book, it remains the copyrighted property of the author and may not be reproduced, copied and distributed for commercial purposes. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarities to actual events, locales, or persons, either living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Cover design by: David Clish
Man in the Moon
The Sheriff
Lover’s Leap
The Copper Box
The Valet of Darkshire Manor
Moon Pies
Plum Loco
The Captive
THE CHRISTMAS CHALLENGE
The winter after my divorce, I decided my children and I needed a new start by establishing our own special family Christmas tradition. I conjured up images of my Grandpa Shorty taking me along out on the farm with him to cut down a Christmas tree and carry it home. It was magic. There is nothing more wonderful than the smell of a fresh cut tree. That wonderful pine smell seems to linger long after the tree has fulfilled its Christmas duty.
I decided to recreate this magic as closely as I could with a yearly trip to the Christmas tree farm. The day after Thanksgiving, my two children and I would go to the local Christmas tree farm and choose a live tree. We would tramp all over acres of pines in the crisp, fall air in order to find the perfect tree. Certain trees called to us, whispering in our ears that they were the perfect tree. We would decorate our tree with ribbons and bows and make sure our name tag was prominently displayed so no one would take our tree. A week or so before Christmas, we would go back to the farm, chop down the tree, drag it back to the car and carry it home. Not exactly a replica of grandpa’s Midwest tree expedition, but as close as we could come in San Diego. Over the years it became our own special family tradition and the children and I looked forward to it.
However, somehow over time, this family tradition morphed into a yearly challenge for me. When I picked out the perfect Christmas tree, I somehow always chose the biggest tree in the forest. It quickly became apparent that I had absolutely no concept of size when it came to choosing a Christmas tree. I’m not sure why that was. Looking back, I have a hunch the origins of this shortcoming occurred in my early youth. I was between the ages of six and ten when Grandpa and I went out to cut down the tree and at that age, every tree looks huge. I look back on photos of a five-year-old blonde in her little holiday dress standing next to her Grandfather and the tree they chose, and the tree probably isn’t over five feet tall. To me, it seemed gigantic.
This character flaw became the butt of many jokes with friends and family. I explain to everyone it’s as though a particular tree calls to us. Perhaps this is the same calling I heard when I chose my 135-pound dog from the pound…no one else wanted something that big. Whatever the reason, we would stomp all over the Christmas tree farm, ultimately find the perfect tree, tag it with bows and ribbons to make it special and then impatiently wait until mid-December to go back and cut it down and carry it home. The return trip was always a surprise.
I suppose when I say “carry it home”, that’s far too Norman Rockwell. We didn’t exactly carry our tree home very often. Each time we went back two weeks later, the tree seemed to have grown at least three feet since we had picked it out. Several times I had to be convinced by the manager that the remaining monster tree standing alone in the field, bedecked with familiar bows and ribbons was, indeed, the tree I had chosen. I was certain someone had changed ribbons with me.
As the years went by and the children grew, the trees we chose got taller and wider. I was getting a reputation. Friends would congregate at my house waiting for the unveiling of another monstrous Christmas tree. Each year I would attempt to convince them that I had bought one much more practical than last year, but each year we stood the tree upright, we had to move it further up the cathedral ceiling in order to make it fit. Ultimately, it had to be moved so far up the ceiling, it didn’t even show up in the living room window.
My daughter still reminds me of the Christmas I almost killed her. That was the first year the tree farm told me that a normal Christmas tree stand would no longer do. They suggested that I use a special base of 2 X 4’s to hold the tree in place and were even so kind as to construct one for me. At this point, the people at the tree farm and I we were on a first-name basis. Thankfully, my children were in high school and old enough to be of assistance. My son cut three feet off the tree so that it would fit in front of the living room window and between the three of us struggling, pushing and shoving, we got the tree carried into the house. We leaned it against the fireplace wall so we could take a breather. Twenty minutes later, with a great deal of huffing and puffing, we set the tree upright and into place on the specially constructed wood base. My daughter sat down on the sofa in exhaustion and my son and I stepped back to admire our tree. It was about that time that the tree started to gently sway under its own weight. Moments later, the tree fell on my daughter. I was sure I’d killed her under the weight of a 13-foot Christmas tree. Luckily, the sofa took the brunt of the weight and my daughter lived to see another Christmas. But as a precaution, we had to hold the tree in place with guide wires attached to the ceiling to avoid any further threat to life and limb.
Perhaps our most notorious was the year of the “mother lode” tree. Friends still talk about that year. We had chosen a tree that just seemed to stand out from all the rest. It was magnificent. When we went back a few weeks later to cut it down, I had a sinking feeling that perhaps this tree was much bigger than I had first thought. It was. The trunk was so large that it took my college-aged son and two men taking turns to cut it down. I was sure that SDG&E was ready to tag it for future use as a telephone pole.
Once it fell, we quickly realized there was no carrying it back to the car or even dragging this tree back to the parking lot. All my dreams of Grandpa and I dragging our tree through the snow went out the window when a full-blown tractor and trailer had to be brought in to haul my tree to the car! Adding to the embarrassment, I had to call my ex-husband to come over with his SUV because it wouldn’t fit on the hood of my little Honda. It took seven men to load it on top of his car roof. I watched the SUV’s tires sag under its weight. When we got it home, he and I could only pull into the driveway and roll it off the roof and into the front yard.
Ok, so now how am I going to get it into the house? We decided to hold a “Christmas Tree Party” to get the tree in the front door. I invited all my friends, luring them over with promises of eggnog and dinner. This tree was so big that we had to move all the furniture out of not only the living room and the entry, but a portion of the family room as well, in order to get the tree in the front door and around the corner. Luckily, I had a double-door entry. Nevertheless, it took four men and three women to get our chosen prize in the house, into the living room and standing in place. The moment the netting was cut and the branches sprang to life, you could no longer see the fireplace or the library shelves on the right side. Only one sofa was visible. It almost filled the entire fourteen-foot wide living room. We had to go back twice to the drug store for more strings of lights. Neighborhood children would knock on my door asking to see “the tree”. People and neighbors still talk about it.
That did it. After bringing home Christmas tr
ees year after year that took a multitude of men to carry in the front door, that left marks on my cathedral ceiling when pulled it into place and that had to be held with guide wires, I was ordered by family and friends to use my 6’4” son as a measuring tape. David was instructed to raise his hand above his head at the tree farm. If the tree was taller than his hand, it was not a candidate to come home with us for the holidays. It quickly became apparent this may take some training, since the following Christmas, apparently David was standing uphill when he raised is hand, because we still somehow wound up with a thirteen foot Christmas tree.
The October following the thirteen-foot tree, most of my neighborhood was lost in the San Diego Witch Creek fire, including the two homes next to mine. My home suffered severe smoke damage, so I lived with my mom and dad for eight weeks. I was able to get back into my home the day before Christmas, too late for a tree. I was thrilled to be home, but it just wasn’t’ Christmas without a tree. I sulked all day while making trips back and forth, moving my things back home. The house seemed empty and void of the Christmas spirit without a majestic tree to light up the house. On my last trip back to my house that evening, I walked in the front door to the most heartwarming and beautiful sight I could imagine. My eyes still well up in memory of it. My ex-husband and daughter were busy putting the finishing touches on the artificial tree he’d brought over from his house to surprise me. Only six feet tall, it seemed miniscule compared to its predecessors, but to me it looked magnificent!. I had a tree and I was back home just in time for Christmas. This was going to be a wonderful Christmas.
This year will present the greatest challenge ever. This year’s tree has to be very special. I lost my beloved Mom two months before the holidays and Christmas without her is going to be difficult. I need an extraordinary tree to carry me through without her shining smile. More than ever, when we traipse through the Christmas tree farm, this tree needs to stand out from all the rest.
My “measuring tape” has graduated from college and is ready to do his Christmas duty. My daughter is prepared to readily defend herself from trees foreign and domestic. And me? I have the love and support of an incredible family, so I think I’m going to be alright this holiday season.
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
In February, 2011 Linda’s flash fiction, The Captive, was selected for San Diego Writer’s Ink Anthology, Vol 4 as one of San Diego’s finest writers and she was honored to read her piece at their February 14th Press Release Party. She has had numerous short stories and poems published in IdeaGems, Adventures for the Average Woman and Tough Lit Magazine in both magazine and ezine form in the United States and England. Her stories have appeared in GreenPrints, Grand Magazine and The San Diego Reader and other publications.
Now an empty nester, Linda resides in San Diego with Jake, a 135-pound Akita/St. Bernard. She keeps close ties with her two children, David and Erin and incorporates her colorful experiences into her hobbies of travel, writing, painting and photography.