My Favorite Day of the Year

It's not my birthday
as you might guess,
not Christmas or New Year's,
or even Super Bowl Sunday.
It's not when we spring ahead,
or welcome summer,
or cheer the arrival of fall.
No, my favorite day is 
Christmas Tree Picking Day.
 
Every year after Thanksgiving,
we drive to that farm up north,
back down that old winding country road,
to traverse the hills,
bow saw in hand,
pull cart rolling behind.
The kids so full of life as they run 
between the rows of pine
in search of the perfect tree
to bring into our home and adorn
with light and love.

In the early years I made too much
of how long the whole thing took, 
and I wished they'd just make a decision
for Pete's sake.
But now, older and wiser, I let them decide,
no matter how long it takes.
This one too tall.
That one too squat.
This one too skinny.
That one too fat.
In the end we always find the perfect one,
imperfect though it may be.
 
Then we head to the Log Cabin,
where tiger, bear, and Bigfoot 
watch on from the surrounding woods,
as we enjoy our victory meal,
the kids sipping their hot chocolate,
my wife and I a beer, or two.

And then we head home to bring 
our tree inside and place it
on the train board in the living room,
to officially get us into 
the Christmas spirit. 
That is, until its needles brown, 
or it outwears its welcome,
(whichever comes first)
and it's time to ring in the New Year.

Like everything else in life
I know these days are fleeting,
and that soon my kids will tire 
of this family tradition,
their innocence lost 
to the pull of adolescence.
But today I am thankful,
for this day,
this one day, 
when all is right with the world. ~

_____

Copyright © 2016 Valentine J. Brkich