Page 40 of This Broken Heart
I thought I wouldn’t have the energy to look for a Christmas tree this year. That was always dad’s favorite thing. But Trace’s enthusiasm is contagious. And this part of the country is snow-covered and beautiful. “I’m really glad we’re doing this.”
Josh looks back. “Not too cold?”
“Oh, I’m cold.” I laugh. “But it’s fun doing it with the kids. I don’t think mom and I would have been a barrel of monkeys this year.”
“Your mom won’t feel bad to be left out?”
I shake my head. “She didn’t like doing it when dad was alive. I’m sure she wouldn’t like it now.”
He doesn’t prod, but it’s nice to talk about things like this with someone who would understand. My mom has gone through a different grieving process than I have, most of which involves chinning up and not talking about it.
Trace has stopped in front of a particularly large cedar. Josh plants his hands on his hips and tips his head back. “Might be a little too big, bud.”
“No, it’s not.” Trace says, scooting around the far side of the tree.
“It’s taller than our house.” Josh points out.
Trace looks like he’s bracing for a showdown. I squat down beside him, gasping theatrically. “Trace. Look at that one over there.”
He follows where I’m pointing. I lower my voice to a whisper. “It’s just perfect, don’t you think?”
He squints his eyes at me, skepticism giving way to agreement. He raises a mittened hand to point at the smaller tree. “That’s the one, dad. Hack it down.”
I pull out my phone, ignoring the biting cold, to take a few pictures of Josh with the kids. He hunkers down by them and Trace barrels into him, knocking him flat on this back. Maven capitalizes on his position and then the two of them are dog-piling on their dad. I snap a few more shots, laughing when Trace shoves a handful of snow down Josh’s shirt.
“You think that’s funny?” Josh asks, climbing to his feet with a mischievous glint in his eye.
I take a step backwards. “I do, actually.”
He reaches down, scooping up a handful of snow. “Really funny?”
I put my hands up, warding him off. “Put that down.”
He takes a few steps towards me, and I spin on my heel. His arm hooks me around my waist, lifting me off the ground. Squawking indignantly, a peel of laughter rings out of me.
I don’t really like being picked up. I’m always afraid I’m going to be too heavy. But Josh spins me around like I weigh as much as Trace.
It’s flattering, if not anywhere near accurate.
Trace, little hero that he is, charges in to the rescue. He pelts his dad with snowballs while Maven tangles herself up in his legs. He sets me down before pretending to be tackled to the ground by the kids.
Maven switches sides, turning on me. She holds her hands up and gives me an adorably ferocious bear growl. Wrapping her arms around my legs, she tugs and tugs until I pretend to fall over.
Snow is sneaking in my collar, at the waistband on my jeans, but Maven’s too cute to put off. Trace yanks my phone out of my pocket, attempting to unlock it with his mittened thumbs. “We need a group picture.”
I unlock it for him and Josh leans over, tugging the phone from our hands. Trace hooks his arm around my neck and pulls me flat. “Scoot in close, dad.”
Josh holds the phone above us with his long arm. I look up at our little group, pink-cheeked and happy—we look like a living Christmas card.
Trace settles in closer, accidentally shoving more snow down my collar. A shiver wracks my body and Josh feels the tremor. He sits up. “Okay, those enough frozen selfies for one day.”
I scoop Maven up and hold her on my hip while Josh and Trace kneel by the tree trunk. Josh lets Trace pass the saw through the trunk a few times before taking over. The tree goes over with a quiet whisper of pine needles.
I carry Maven back up the slope. Josh tows the tree and Trace scampers ahead, an endless bundle of energy.
Josh looks askance at me. “It’s not too cold out, is it?”
“It’s cold.” I laugh.