A couple of days ago, DH and I went tree hunting. I say hunting instead of shopping since this year we chopped down our Christmas tree at a tree farm. With a saw and sled in hand we scouted for the perfect tree for our living room. This was the first year we didn't try hunting for our tree in SD hurricane-like winds, a blizzard or freezing rain. All of the above has happened to us in the past. This year we had a sunny, warm-for-December day to find our tree. A hunting we a went and found a beautiful, pretty much perfect Frasier Fur tree that we were going to call ours. But just as I began singing Oh Christmas Tree while DH bent over to start sawing this perfect tree - I heard a long drawn out "ummmmm, Hon" from below. Yep, DH chopped off a low branch that made our perfect tree now only perfect from one side. There was now a BIG gaping whole. After much debating if the tree could still be salvaged, we had to let it go. Guilt and sadness came over me as I walked away from this once perfect tree. All I could think of as we continued to hunt was "No one is going to want that tree now!", "What is going to happen to it?", "Is it going to remain in the farm for years to come?", " Will we come back to the tree farm with our children and be able to tell them our terrible story?" "Yep kids, that big tree right over there with all the missing branches on one side was going to be your Mom & Dad's Christmas tree 'til your Father cut a wrong branch and we had to abandon it."
It's going to take some time for me to get over the guilt I feel leaving that tree. We finally did find this nice tree to call ours.
And next year when we do go back to the farm and we see our destructed Frasier Fur still standing, I think my guilt will get the best of me and we'll be giving that tree a home. Even if it stands as tall as our vaulted ceilings.
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