How a Christmas Gift with a Secret Meaning Saved My Life
<p>It was the year we murdered a tree for Christmas.</p>
<p>Daddy made me hold the Douglas fir while he attacked at its base. The tree’s perfume made me fall in love. As it broke at the bottom, its woody tendrils shrieked as it let go. I let go, too, and Daddy yelled at me. We dragged the tree out of the forest, leaving a trail of needles as if the poor thing hoped it might find its way back.</p>
<p>I was thirteen, and I’m sure Dad thought I was gay. He saw my horror as he made me do manly things. He no doubt thought it was his duty.</p>
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