I Think My Christmas Tree Was Stolen

I don’t mean that anyone has stolen my Christmas tree, I mean that my Christmas tree may have been obtained outside the polite practices of decent society.

I assumed very little good would come from my son and his friends venturing into New York City for a 21st birthday party. It was a few days before Christmas and everyone had returned from college looking to reconnect and have some fun.

Upon his arrival home from college, my son had been surprised and disappointed that I had not yet purchased a Christmas tree. I remarked about other houses that weren’t decorated and he said, “Not like you’ve done anything, either.” I was puzzled at the tone, but still had no interest in getting a tree.

I dropped my son at the train on the afternoon of the trip into the city and returned home to make dinner and spend the evening in my undecorated house. I did have a poinsettia and felt like that was mission accomplished for decorating. My biggest challenge for the evening would be staying awake to pick up my son in the early hours of the next day.

Several hours later, I managed to arrive at the station well before the train. I must have dozed off because I woke to rapping on the passenger side window. It was my son, in a very happy and rowdy mood.

“Do you want it?”, he asked.

“Want what?” I replied.

I noticed a large bundled tree near the Tahoe, but did not make the connection to us.

“The tree. I got a Christmas tree!”

I was now wide awake. I understood that somehow this tree had arrived with my son on the train.

“Shit. Where did you get that?”

“We found it when we were walking in the city.”

I flashed back to my younger days and remembered ‘finding’ White Castle signs and the actual Taco Bells that rang.

“Really? How did you get it to Grand Central?”

“The subway.”

Indeed, that should have been obvious. Nothing like hauling a large Christmas tree on the subway. Sounds like it was a great party.

He looked at me. “It will fit in the Tahoe.”

I thought about the tree and the indignity of just leaving it at the train station. That didn’t seem right. I hit the key to open the back hatch. I felt like the Grinch growing his heart and resolved to give the tree a nice home. If not for my son, it might have wound up lonely and cold on the streets. The tree was placed in the Tahoe and we headed into the early morning. No more questions asked.