Christmas Tree Sap

Short story - There we are, my parents and me, looking for a Christmas tree. I am ten, a skinny girl with waist-length hair (rarely brushed), and all legs and arms. I’m wearing last year’s coat and the sleeves are too short. There is snow on the ground. My feet are cold because I’ve forgotten to wear my boots. We crunch through the gas station parking lot, circling the various spruce and pine trees that they have trucked in to sell. It is Saturday morning and everyone in Northern Indiana seems to be intent on buying a tree on that particular day. My Dad is a long-distance truck driver. If we don’t buy a tree today, I know we won’t shop again until next weekend because he has a load ready to take to Shreveport. I am optimistic. We will find a tree today and it will be perfect!