Page 75 of Tides and Tidings

“You both are,” Blythe confirmed.

My kid’s face lit up like the sky on the Fourth of July. Blythe quickly learned that Wren’s love language was words of affirmation and provided confirmation and affirmation in this house.

“Little Bird, do you want to pick out a Christmas tree?”

Wren looked up at me with the same eyes I see in the mirror. “Yes!” She grabbed Blythe’s hand and headed for the door. “Can we go now?”

Blythe’s eyes met mine. I shrugged. “Sure, why not? Go put your jacket on.”

“Birdie, can you help me?”

I could see Blythe’s chest fill with excitement. “Absolutely.”

Blythe helped Wren into her coat and the three of us made our way to the car. Wren was being buckled into her seat when she asked if we could listen to Christmas music. Even though it wasn’t my go-to music, I happily obliged. Blythe got in the passenger seat and drove to the nearest Christmas tree farm.

Wren and Blythe sang along while I tried to hold back the smile tugging at my lips.

“I’m not used to picking out a tree while it’s sixty degrees out. This feels weird to me.” Blythe commented while plucking Wren out of her car seat.

“Birdie, was it cold where you lived?”

“Oh yeah. It even snowed!”

Wren’s eyes were saucers. “I’ve never seen snow.”

“Maybe your daddy and I can plan a trip to the mountains so you can see snow soon.”

Her mouth hung open. “Really?”

Blythe looked over at me. I could tell by the look on her face that it would make her feel more at home as well.

“Let’s do it. Do you think Grammy and Pops would also like to come with us?”

Wren nodded under her little beanie. “I think they would love that.”

The kid started to take off through the parking lot.

“Hand!” Blythe called behind her, extending a hand out for Wren to grab. She did as she was told.

She sure played the mom role well for someone who didn’t want kids. Wren always listens to whatever Blythe says, whether she wants to or not.

“Do you smell that?” Blythe inhaled deeply.

Wren looked up at Blythe and inhaled the same way. “It smells good.”

“It does, doesn’t it? That’s what our house will smell like once the tree is in the living room.”

“It’s heavenly!” Wren spread her arms wide and did a little twirl.

Where did she even learn that?

I would agree, though. The smell of Frasier Fir is one of my favorites. It reminded me of all the times my mom and Ron took me to this farm to pick out a tree. Those are some of my best memories, and being able to recreate them with my daughter is special.

With Blythe’s hand firmly grasped, Wren also reached for my hand. The kid led us around the farm while she decided which one she wanted. She had initially picked a thirteen-foot monster of a tree, but Blythe had to explain that it wouldn’t fit inside the house. Crisis averted.

“How about this one?” Wren let go of our hands and found the perfect tree. “It’s super fat!”

“It’s full.” I corrected.