That Fresh Pine Scent

I woke up to the fresh pine scent that still lingered inside my house.

The evergreen Christmas tree was always my favorite thing about the holidays. The Old Windmill was the only place in Sag Harbor that could house so many trees in such small venue. As we'd drive there, you could see the Windmill covered in festive lights as we drove over the bridge.The bridge crossing over into Sag Harbor only made the excitement in my belly grow. The whole ritual of going there and picking out the most spectacular tree that we could find, was always a investigation of sorts. Doing my detective work on each tree, I would interrogate them all with my eyes. Eyeing for flawls and broken branches, the dead limbs remained

motionless as I continued with my search. Until I'd finally recovered a spruce that was epically huge. It was full with wiry branches and smelled just like Christmas. This was the perfect Christmas tree. The ritual
continues as we tie it to our car for the short journey home. There we decorate it
for our 1993 Christmas extravaganza. First I watered my tree so it
wouldn't get thirsty. As I'm watering it with my favorite tea pot my
mother came out of the basement with old shopping bags filled with
decorations and lights. We already spent the entire afternoon decorating the front lawn in lights around the trees. Every year it gets harder and harder to still come up with the energy to glamorize our house. But we do it to make the rest of our neighbor envious of our holiday spirit. First we wrapped the untangled multicolored Christmas lights around the top of our tree. These were my most favorite lights ever. Not only did they blinked on and off, they blinked to the rhythms and beats of Christmas music that it played. Then came the rest of our ornament's. Some that we've made over the years, others from stores we've purchased years ago.
The party itself was a gathering of family,friends and employees of my mother. The night is filled with intoxicating moments from poker at the adults table, Heineken kisses and several Thai curses. We open our presents while my mother video tapes every one's reactions to their blocks of coal and silver bells. The floor, which is covered in a blanket of multicolored scraps of wrapping paper and boxes is busy with feet tapping. The party goers are finally exiting our house. I go to sleep happy with my new Polly Pocket and my
growing tea set collection in hand. My sister and I, slept in old gym
shirts that belong to our father. The gown like size shirts were always the sleep apparel of choice. As we paraded around our room our mother asks us to go to sleep. She assures us if we didn't go back to bed, that Santa would be angry. Already holding on to our new gifts like trophies, we laughed in her face. I woke up to the fresh pine scent that still lingered inside my house.My sister and I make our way to the door of our room.

Still groggy from awaking from my deep slumber a light flashes in my eyes. I am stunned. I reopen my eyes to see the most horrific thing a child will ever witness post morning Christmas. My beautiful tree, which stood in the middle of
our living room, was bare. All the lights, the hand made macaroni
ornaments, the fake snow, the star, and the boxes of gifts were all gone.
All that was left, was a skinny trunk with a few surviving branches still
clinging onto it.

Another light flashes. My mother took another Polaroid
picture of my reaction to the devastation that was before my face. She
said " See what happens when you make Santa angry? He came back for the
Tree." Laughing hysterically at her new photos my mother exists the
living room. My days of enjoying the tree were officially ruined. To this
day my mother enjoys those photographs the most. She still laughs the
hardest when she looks at them daily.