Tradition
December 15, 2024
The snow was piled high around the trees.
“How are we supposed to know if it’s a good one,” asked one of the twins. I handed her a shovel which thudded to the ground.
“Mom,” she called out.
“You can’t expect her to shovel,” responded Annette.
I picked up the shovel and moved the snow quickly. Before I got half way done the verdict came down. “Not this one.” That happened fifty times.
As we reached the van with the compromise tree, a small voice piped up from the rear seat.
“Fake tree next year?”
Losing the tradition seemed right.
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