I am linking to In Other Words. The prompt is:
“The Christmas tree is the dot on the “i”.”
Every year my parents and my brother and I would go out in the cold to a Christmas tree lot to get our tree. Sometimes we went to more than one place. The tree had to be perfect. Perfect to my mother was no bare spots, to my father a straight trunk, to my brother not too fat or too skinny and for me tall.
We would look and inspect and study and finally settle on a tree. Never a perfect one. Either it had a crooked trunk or a bare spot, it was too fat or too skinny and usually shorter than I wanted.
Then one year we got a tree with a straight trunk, no bare spot, and just the right dimensions. Hooray! We took it home and the next day brought into the house. Daddy set it up and put the lights on and the angel on top. Mom put a few special ornaments where she wanted them then went to fix something to eat. My brother and I finished with the ornaments and tinsel. It was perfect!
With the tree all decorated and lit we went to the kitchen to eat and talk about our most wonderful tree. While we were there in the kitchen we heard some tinkling sound and a sort of whoosh. Then a crash of breaking glass and scattered balls and beads rolling across the floor. Our beautiful perfect Christmas tree had fallen down and was laying across the living room rug.
Daddy went and got some twine and nails, set the tree back up and anchored it to the wall. Not so perfect anymore, but still straight and tall with no bare places and just the right proportions. It was still our beautiful tree just a bit tattered and tired looking.