A "Freebird" in a Christmas Tree
Dec. 14th, 2012 01:53 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
nolawitch58On the way home from a writers' holiday gathering last night, I heard the familiar opening strains of "Freebird" on the radio. That song always reminds me of the first Christmas I spent with my father after he got custody of me from my mother after the divorce. Moving in with him literally saved my life. I can only shudder to think what sort of bitter loser I would have been had I been trapped in that awful podunk with my mother and sister until graduation.
December was in full swing. Snow had fallen. Mercantile madness had cast a merry pall on all the shops in town. Middletown was bedecked in festive glory.
For some reason I could not fathom, my dad was down in the dumps. He got up one Saturday morning and decided to go visit his parents in Arcadia. He asked if I wanted to go along, but I said no. I had saved $30 and had a boyfriend with a car who would take me to the mall. I could buy records or makeup or clothes.
Something about the way Daddy shrugged his coat on and fished the keys out of his pocket made me take notice. Though his head was down, I could see the forlorn expression on his face. As soon as the door closed behind him, I ran to the window and watched him trudge to the car, get in, and drive away.
Looking around the mobile home we inhabited in the trailer park on the north side of town, I suddenly had a mission.
I called my boyfriend and told him to come get me. For the next half an hour while I waited, I moved furniture in the living room to be prepared for the next part of the mission.
We went down to the supermarket on Locust Street which had blocked off part of the parking lot to sell trees. I bought the best one I could find for $15. We crammed it in the trunk of his Ford Falcon and took it home.
He had borrowed an extra tree stand from his parents that they weren't using to hold it up. I had found a white bed sheet to drape under it. The tree fit perfectly and modestly in the corner where I had cleared space. The heady scent of pine filled the room.
Something wasn't right though. The tree was bare. We got back in the car and went to another store to buy lights, ornaments, and a star. The left me with $5 and little interest in the mall anymore.
We returned home, and he was pressed into further service helping run the lights and arrange the ornaments, which were plain inexpensive gold and silver balls and bells. The star was placed atop the now-resplendent tree, and we plugged in the lights. It could almost pass for beautiful. "Freebird" came on the radio, and I would hear it repeatedly for the next several weeks since it was in heavy rotation at the time.
Several hours had elapsed, so I expected Dad to be home soon. Sure enough, he arrived home within the hour after my boyfriend and I had completed our work. I heard the car pull into the driveway and ran to the window. Dad trudged toward the door the same way he trudged to the car earlier. I ran back to the couch and sat to wait.
That same forlorn look was on his face for a brief moment when a gust of cold air accompanied him in the door. He spied the tree. A new look of wonderment appeared, and he burst into tears. I went and hugged him. I don't think he had ever hugged me back as fiercely any time before or after that day. He hung up his coat, pulled out his handkerchief, and finished having a good cry.
When he had regained his composure, he sat with the phone for the rest of the day, calling his friends to tell them how I had surprised him.
That is the true magic of Christmas, and hearing "Freebird" always takes me back to it.
December was in full swing. Snow had fallen. Mercantile madness had cast a merry pall on all the shops in town. Middletown was bedecked in festive glory.
For some reason I could not fathom, my dad was down in the dumps. He got up one Saturday morning and decided to go visit his parents in Arcadia. He asked if I wanted to go along, but I said no. I had saved $30 and had a boyfriend with a car who would take me to the mall. I could buy records or makeup or clothes.
Something about the way Daddy shrugged his coat on and fished the keys out of his pocket made me take notice. Though his head was down, I could see the forlorn expression on his face. As soon as the door closed behind him, I ran to the window and watched him trudge to the car, get in, and drive away.
Looking around the mobile home we inhabited in the trailer park on the north side of town, I suddenly had a mission.
I called my boyfriend and told him to come get me. For the next half an hour while I waited, I moved furniture in the living room to be prepared for the next part of the mission.
We went down to the supermarket on Locust Street which had blocked off part of the parking lot to sell trees. I bought the best one I could find for $15. We crammed it in the trunk of his Ford Falcon and took it home.
He had borrowed an extra tree stand from his parents that they weren't using to hold it up. I had found a white bed sheet to drape under it. The tree fit perfectly and modestly in the corner where I had cleared space. The heady scent of pine filled the room.
Something wasn't right though. The tree was bare. We got back in the car and went to another store to buy lights, ornaments, and a star. The left me with $5 and little interest in the mall anymore.
We returned home, and he was pressed into further service helping run the lights and arrange the ornaments, which were plain inexpensive gold and silver balls and bells. The star was placed atop the now-resplendent tree, and we plugged in the lights. It could almost pass for beautiful. "Freebird" came on the radio, and I would hear it repeatedly for the next several weeks since it was in heavy rotation at the time.
Several hours had elapsed, so I expected Dad to be home soon. Sure enough, he arrived home within the hour after my boyfriend and I had completed our work. I heard the car pull into the driveway and ran to the window. Dad trudged toward the door the same way he trudged to the car earlier. I ran back to the couch and sat to wait.
That same forlorn look was on his face for a brief moment when a gust of cold air accompanied him in the door. He spied the tree. A new look of wonderment appeared, and he burst into tears. I went and hugged him. I don't think he had ever hugged me back as fiercely any time before or after that day. He hung up his coat, pulled out his handkerchief, and finished having a good cry.
When he had regained his composure, he sat with the phone for the rest of the day, calling his friends to tell them how I had surprised him.
That is the true magic of Christmas, and hearing "Freebird" always takes me back to it.
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no subject
Date: 2012-12-14 08:55 pm (UTC)Thanks for sharing.
*hugs*
no subject
Date: 2012-12-14 10:49 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-12-15 11:50 am (UTC)