Joseph and the twins picked out our Christmas tree this afternoon. I got to come home to the savory pine smell. It's what makes it Christmas for me. That smell. And that's why I just can't get a fake tree. I've thought about it. Several times. I mean, it would be so much easier to just pull the tree out every year right after Thanksgiving. It would be easier to not have to worry about spending the money on a tree at the least convenient financial time of the year. And let's be honest, it would be sooo much easier not to have to continually vacuum up those blasted pine needles.
But that smell of thirty-six Christmases, of Dad coming home from working the midnight shift at the time we were allowed to come downstairs to open presents, the smell of going in on presents with my sister so that we could buy our siblings the presents we thought they deserved, the smell of the Christmas story being read by my dad in his police uniform--that's worth any amount of inconvenience or effort. And now I get to add the smell of excited children as they race around the house in their Christmas high as they help decorate. Ahhh! Nothing could smell better than this.
