With a matching grin, Jim agreed, "You bet, Dad. Do I get to help cut it down this year?"
Before his Dad could answer, Jim’s mom called in from the kitchen, "You men had better get going before the snow gets any heavier. I’ll have hot chocolate and poffertjes waiting for you when you get back."
Jim struggled into his boots and heavy winter coat as fast as he could. Every year for as long as he could remember, he and his dad had gone out and cut their Christmas tree. Some years were sunny with little or no snow on the ground and others were like this year, snowy and cold. And always, his mom was waiting with hot chocolate and the powdered sugar covered pancakes that she called poffertjes. Jim was glad that they didn’t have too far to go in the snow. On the other side of the barn and stable, past the pasture, were several wooded acres that they owned. During the past month or two, whenever he had free time from homework and chores, he’d been looking back there for the perfect tree. Two weeks ago he’d found it. It was the perfect size for their family room. He just hoped that this big snowstorm hadn’t caused it any damage.
"Jimmy, come on!" Win called from the back porch.
Pulling his gloves on as he hurried down the hall he called back, "I’m coming, Dad!" Reaching the porch and closing the back door behind him, he continued, "Dad, please, not Jimmy! That’s a little boy name. I’m not a little boy anymore."
Win looked down at the serious expression on his son’s face, "You’re right, Jim, you’re not a little boy anymore. That’ll be my New Year’s resolution – to stop calling you Jimmy."
Grinning, Jim raced awkwardly across the snow covered yard to the stable and barn. The ax and hand saw that were their tree cutting tools were inside.
Win waited patiently for Jim to return. He knew that as excited as his boy was, he’d be several minutes as he’d stop to say good-morning to their three horses before he went into the connected barn to collect their tools.
"Jim, did you get lost?" Win hollered almost ten minutes later.
"Sorry, Dad," Jim answered, emerging from the barn, "I was just checking on Mom’s Christmas present."
"Oh, how’s it coming?"
"It looks good. The bud is huge. It should just be opening on Christmas Eve." Jim was excited to give his mom her Christmas present. He’d done extra chores to earn enough money to buy an amaryllis bulb, which he’d carefully planted and cared for. His mother loved flowers and had lots of plants both inside and outside of their home. Last Christmas he’d overheard his mom telling a friend how she’d love to have an amaryllis at Christmastime, just like her mother had always had. He’d decided then that her Christmas present for the next year would be that special flower.
"You know, son," Win said as they trudged through the foot and a half of snow in the pasture, "I look forward to this every year."
"What, Dad? Getting the tree?"
"Yes. This is the ninth time that we’ve done this."
"Ninth? But I’m only 8!" Jim was slightly confused.
"True, but the first time you helped you were only five months old. Your Grandpa Frayne carried you out here all bundled up and we picked out the tree and I cut it down. The next year, Uncle James and Aunt Nell came up for the holidays and he went with us to find the tree. The next year and the years following it’s just been us."
Jim thought about it for a moment and asked, "So, it’s a tradition? We talked about those at school. I didn’t think we had any."
Win’s booming laughter echoed among the trees. "Oh, Son, we’ve got so many traditions! This is just one."
"How come Mom doesn’t come with us?"
"Well, that’s part of the tradition. The men of the family go and get the tree while the women get the decorations ready and, of course, get the hot chocolate and cookies – or thanks to a tradition of your mom’s family – the poffertjes."
"And then Mom takes a picture."
"Yep, that’s how it works. That’s how it was when I was your age, too."
"Then that’s how it will be with my family," Jim stated firmly.
Suppressing a grin, Win asked, "So, Son, which tree is it this year?" I’m sure you’ve been out here looking for the best one."
"It’s this way," and Jim led his father directly to the "perfect" tree. The snow had caused a few branches to break, but for the most part it still looked beautiful.
"Good choice, Son, let’s take ‘er home!"
Half an hour later they stood outside the back door and sang O Christmas Tree as loudly as they could. That was the cue for Mom to come out and take a picture.
Katje hurried to the door and looked out, "Boys, it’s beautiful!" Then, forgetting her coat in her excitement, she came out with the camera.
"One, two, three, smile!" she cried and snapped the picture. Grabbing it from the front of the camera, she called, "It’ll be ready to look at as soon as you two get out of your wet clothes and come have some hot chocolate."
Later that evening, stretched out in front of the tree, Jim turned the pages of a worn photo album. The twinkling lights of the tree played over his freckled face and those in the faded pictures. He saw his dad as a boy, even younger than himself holding up the tree with the grandfather he knew only through pictures. The color pictures began with the first year that he went with his dad to get the tree – clearly showing not only the facial features that had been passed down from father to son to grandson, but also the vibrant red hair. ‘Yep,’ Jim decided, ‘I’ll take my son to get the tree every year, too, just like we did today.’
* * *
"He’s fine, dear," Helen Belden said with a knowing smile as she handed her husband his warm gloves, "and they’re not going to be gone for very long."
"Don’t worry, Trix, he’s fine," Jim kissed his wife’s frowning lips. "It’s a nice day, not even snowing." A sad smile crossed his face as Jim remembered the last time he’d gone with his own father to get the Christmas tree - it had been snowing pretty hard that day. He’d been eight and that had been when he decided that he’d carry on this family tradition with his own son some day, not realizing the many challenges and changes that would come to his own life before that time came.
"Ready to go, Son," Matt Wheeler asked, clapping his adopted son on the shoulder.
"You bet, Dad," Jim replied, handing him the small bundle he’d been holding. "Could you carry Win, please?"
Slight hesitation appeared in Matt’s eyes as he held his grandson. Only Madeleine knew that Win was the first baby he’d ever held. The baby was now four months old and he was still a little afraid to hold him.
"No problem, Son," Matt said as Win opened his eyes and smiled at his grandfather. There was no doubt this boy was a Frayne - the green eyes and red hair assured that. Thinking of the boy’s real grandfather and his old school friend, Matt sent a thought heavenward,’Win, I’m doing my best to do what you would’ve done. We’ve got a great man and the beginning of another one now.’
"Come on, Grandpa, let’s go find the perfect tree," Peter Belden said, caressing his grandson’s cheek with one finger as he patted his friend on the shoulder with his other hand.
As the men left the kitchen, Maddie called, "We’ll have hot chocolate and cookies waiting when you get back." She turned back to her daughter-in-law and Helen who were seated with her at the kitchen table, "Let’s look at that album some more, Trixie. What a treasure it is."
The three women studied the pictures in the worn and tattered photo album as they awaited the return of the tree hunters.
"This was the last time Jim went with his dad," Trixie said softly, pointing to the Polaroid on the last filled page. "The next year he went alone because his dad was too sick to go." She wiped away a single tear and continued, "He went alone again for a couple more years until his mom remarried."
"O
Christmas tree,
O Christmas tree,
How lovely are thy branches"
O Christmas tree,
How lovely are thy branches"
"Go take the picture, dear, Maddie and I will take care of the rest," Helen said. She hurried to the stove and turned the heat up on the milk as Maddie grabbed a plate from the cupboard and piled on the molasses cookies that Trixie had made earlier.
Trixie grabbed her digital camera from where it sat next to the beautiful amaryllis her mother-in-law had given her.
Forgetting her coat, she hurried out the back door, "Boys, its beautiful!" Looking at four of the men she loved most in the world she sang out, "One, two, three, smile!"
The End
**Originally posted on zap's trixie page January 2004.
**I’ve never
had poffertjes, but I found them on a Dutch food website and they sounded good
and like a special treat that Jim’s mom might have made.**And yes, it may seem out of character for Madeleine (Maddie) Wheeler to put cookies on a plate or sit in a kitchen, but I see her having mellowed through the years and with Trixie and Jim not have the formal home that she’s accustomed to (i.e. no servants) being used to doing small things like this in the kitchen. And she probably enjoys it!
**when I wrote this I knew how Jim had ended up with that album, but now I can’t remember so I guess I’ll have to figure it out again.
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