The 'little' Christmas Tree

It was later afternoon on the 24^th. The house smelled of Christmas. The children had arrived over the past three days. Their noise, laughter and chaos were a welcome presence. It reminded Owen of earlier years. He smiled faintly as he stood by the crackling fireplace in the drawing room, a glass of scotch in hand, looking at the ‘little’ Christmas tree. He had always liked it better. It was more personal, more intimate.

When the children were younger, he had often been away. Time at home had been precious, though not always easy. It had been borrowed time, but he had done his best to make it count. It had left little time for himself.

Over the years, it had gotten easier. At times, he wondered whether the sacrifices had been worth it. By the time he was more present, the children were already grown and gone. He knew he had missed important moments, but never doubted that Alice had done an exceptional job in raising them.

“Sir.”

“Douglas, come in son.”

His eldest stood in the doorway, tall and broad shouldered. Douglas stepped in and gave his father a knowing look. “Hiding from Mom?”

Owen face broke into a crooked smile. “She’s terrorising Maria in the kitchen. I figured it was safer to retreat.”

Douglas gave a dry chuckle and walked over to the leather sofa. He looked at the antique clock on top of the mantle. “Maria is still here? Doesn’t she celebrate Christmas today?”

“There was apparently a problem with the dessert.” Owen moved closer and sat on the sofa next to his son.

“Your mother has been stressing about tomorrow all day. I’m sure she’ll let her go soon.”

Douglas furrowed his brows. “Hmm.”

“I actually wanted a moment alone with you son.”

“Ohh?”

Owen felt a smooth, cleansing burn as he took a sip. “Your unit might get new orders after the holiday.”

Douglas was part of the 75^th Ranger Regiment, stationed at Joint Base Lewis-McChord. He had commissioned right after college to follow in his father’s footsteps.

Sensing where the conversation was heading, Douglas got up, walked over to the bar and poured himself a glass. “What kind of task are we looking at?”

“Things are heating up in the Gulf. We need to stay ahead of any asymmetric threats.”

Douglas settled back in his seat and took a slow draw, his eyes sharpening as he sensed a subtle edge in his father’s voice. “Anything out of the ordinary?”

Trying to channel Alice’s optimism, Owen said with a half-smile. “Same old, same old, just juggling the usual regional chaos.”

“Hmmm…and if we were honest?”

Owen smiled. Conversations like this were few and far between. It was not many that could meet him at this level. Someone who knew him and the work he carried. His son had grown to be a remarkable man. Owen felt pride swelling in his chest, quietly amazed by the person sitting before him. One that was kind, astute, strong.