Traditions----The Christmas Tree Farm

The snowfall came early that long ago December

Falling silently in the night in ever deepening layers.

Replacing my shoes with the big snow boots that my

daddy had bought for me many years before.

Still unable to lose them as if they were magic

and when I wore them he was with me again.

Fastening the laces

I felt as a little girl again

going to get our Christmas tree

from the tree farm in the country.

My grandfather started it

then my Daddy and now me.

A family tradition I never missed.

I remember so clearly

The car door left wide open

playing his favorite Christmas carols

at crescendo volume.

The white winter landscape of the tree farm.

The rows of pines and balsam

were swaying in the slight winter wind

as if in union with the music.

As that most beautiful of all carols

 O holy night my daddies favorite

filled the air.

I had an overwhelming need to see him once more.

My eyes peered deeply into the mist of the falling snow.

Looking everywhere feeling him close to me.

then I saw him.

Standing by the loveliest Christmas tree

in his mouth his aromatic pipe

that was an extension of him.

he was wearing the old Christmas sweater

that mom had knitted for him long ago.

Reindeer patterns in festive red and green.

Oh! those soft kind eyes and his gentle voice

he said hello kitten

no one ever called me that except him

My eyes misted.

I whispered hello daddy

then as the snow fell from the trees

he disappeared into winters ether.

I had a need to go back in time

to be his little girl again.

To feel safe familiar and loved

But my childhood had passed.

Replaced by my womanhood

and the indelible memories

of a time gone by.

I looked at my daughter

making snow angels

 as I had done so long ago.

Mommy can we always get our Christmas tree here.

I say softly

Yes honey, always here.