Each year, when it was near Christmas two special things happened at Jack and Poppy’s. One was shopping. Mum and dad did a lot of shopping at Christmas. In fact, Poppy noticed they did much more shopping than normal.
They’d jump in the car and go downtown and mum and dad would each take one of the kids and go into different shops. So the others didn’t see what they were buying. Jack could never figure that out. Why didn’t they all just buy all the things together? Poppy said, “It’s because then the things they buy are secret.” But Jack was still puzzled.
Never mind. There was something else that happened at Christmas and everyone did this thing together. It was really exciting and no need for secrets. Jack looked forward to this, very very much.
One day it happened. Dad said, “Would today be a good time to go and do our special Christmas thing?” Jack jumped up and said, “Dad! I’ve been bursting to do it!” And Poppy put her book away and laughed. “Me too.” Then she stopped. She asked, “This time can Jack and me do it on our own?”
Oh. Dad hadn’t expected that. He tilted his head on a special angle and looked at Poppy and scratched behind his ear. Those funny lines crinkled above his eyes. He said, “Hmm. Let’s see what your mum thinks.” Mum looked up from her phone. She was smiling that special smile she always had when she was going to give Jack and Poppy a little treat. She said, “I think that would be OK, dear.”
So Jack and Poppy did a little happiness dance and gave mum and dad big you’re-terrific hugs and laughed and skidded and raced out the door. Through the gate they went, along the footpath and up onto the hill. This Christmas they were old enough to do the special thing all on their own!
Up and up they went. Swishing through the scratchy batchy grass, ducking under some bending wending tree branches, panting and puffing. Soon they would be there!
Higher and up and up they went. They stopped to catch their breath. Way down below they could see their house. Next door was Mrs Threadbare’s house. Jack even thought he could see the roof of the school. Although Poppy said ‘No’, the school was further to the South East. Jack squinted and said it looked like the school roof to him.
They kept moving, going along a little path that turned off to one side. Round it went, past some tall, high trees and over a little creek. And then, suddenly they arrived! Jack and Poppy were standing on the edge of a garden of little trees. Rows and rows of them. Christmas trees!
Everything was neat and tidy. There were no weeds. All the trees were the same distance from the next one. Each tree was deep green. And they were all exactly the same size; just a bit higher than Poppy. (Dad told people, “She’s tall for her age.”)
Jack said, “There’s so many. This might be hard.” And Poppy nodded. “Yes,” she said. “They’re all perfect. The gardeners have done a precision job.” Jack said he didn’t know about that, but he said all the sizes and distances were exactly right. And Poppy went on, “OK. Let’s start in the first row and go on and on until we find the perfect tree.”
And that’s what they did. They walked down the row looking and thinking. Was the shape of this one better than the shape of that one? Was this green colour better than that green colour? Did this one have branches close to the ground? So many things to think about!
After some time Jack said, “Poppy, I’m getting confused. There’s so much to remember.” Poppy thought so too, but she said they’d figure it out and she kept walking and looking and remembering and thinking. And suddenly she stopped and said, “Jack! This one!” She was pointing to a lovely little tree with dark green leaves and a perfect Christmas tree shape; wide at the bottom and pointed at the top. Jack liked it. He liked it a lot! The top was where the Christmas angel decoration would go, he said.
Poppy said, “Right. Let’s remember where this one is and go on and see if there’s an even better one.” Jack said, “I’ll remember. It’s the tree near the end of the row.” And on they went walking and looking and remembering and thinking.
Poppy found another tree. She said, “Jack, this one is the one!” She grinned a big big grin and pointed. “Look! It’s perfect.” Jack said he thought the colour wasn’t as nice as the first tree. So Poppy said they should go back and look at that other tree; the first one. But when they turned to go they suddenly realised they had a problem. Where was that first tree? All they could see were rows and rows of Christmas trees, each one the same, stretching out in every direction! Which one was the first tree! Jack felt a sinking feeling sliding down to the bottom of his tummy. Poppy said they should be able to find it, but …
They looked at each other. Then Poppy said, “We’ll just have to start again, Jack.” No! Jack”s face screwed up. Little stinging water things squeezed into his eyes. He said, “No, Poppy. I really really liked that first tree.” Poppy said, “Jack, we’ll never find it again! Just look.” And she swung her arm around at all the rows and rows of trees that all looked exactly the same.
Poor Jack’s face screwed up even more and he said, “Poppy, we need to try. The first tree was the best!” Poppy looked at him. He was miserable and hunched up and the little water things in his eyes got a bit bigger; like almost about to slide out and drip down his chin and onto the ground. She had to act. Fast. “Jack,” she said. “You’re right. Let’s make a serious effort to find that tree again. Come on.” And she led the way down the closest row.
Jack smiled a bit and hurried after her and the two of them held hands and walked and looked and thought and kept looking and thinking. And suddenly they both shouted at the same time! ”There it is!” And it was. There was their first tree. Jack was beaming, He ran up and tried to hug it, but it was a too prickly so he just stroked the branches.
Poppy took out her handkerchief and tied it to the top of their perfect Christmas tree. “Now we won’t lose it,” she said. And the two of them hugged each other and set off back down the hill. They ran and swooped and pushed through the long wrong grass, swerved and tumbled around low bushes. Bounced across the moss patches and let the wind and sun stream through their hair and flap their shirts. Then they were at the bottom and racing along the footpath, through their gate and into the house.
“Mum! Dad! We’ve picked it!” Jack yelled. And mum and dad looked up from their phones and grinned. Then the four of them set off to the Christmas tree garden. Poppy pointed to her handkerchief and said, “That’s the one.” And mum and dad looked at the tree, and looked at each other, and smiled big smiles. “That’s a perfect tree, kids,” dad said. “Good choice.” And he got out his saw, cut the tree off at the ground, and the four of them set off carrying it together down the hill to home.
Dad said, “You know, kids. This is like John the Baptist.” Poppy thought, ‘Really?’ Mum and dad had read a lot of Bible stories to them but she couldn’t remember that one. But dad explained. He said, “Johns’ job was to point out who the Saviour was. He did that one day at a river.” Jack said, “Just like Poppy and me did. We pointed out the tree.”
And when they got home mum opened the fridge door and said, “I’d like to point out something to you.” And inside there were four cans of delicious, cold fruit drink. Jack and Poppy said, “Mum!” and grabbed one each. Dad took the other two, shut the door and suggested he and mum enjoy their fruit juice together out on the garden seat.