Cheesman Chronicles

Snow crunched under a boot, making way for the snowy wrapped figure. Another boot followed, planted by the sleigh. He looked to his vehicle, gave a satisfying pat, and started his walk to the Tree.

The Boy could always count on the Tree. It provided warmth in the biting cold, shielded him from the downpour of rain, hid him under the blistering sun. He used to play under it all the time, running through the rolling hills and climbing up to become the king of the world. He’d not leave its sight, else he may lose his way.

Though he was hardly a boy anymore. And he had moved on. But for the last three years he had returned as much as he could. Once a week was the goal. Maybe once a month if he was busy. But never longer.

Still, life had changed since he’d left. He didn’t have that support to lean on. He didn’t have the reassurance he would be protected. Even when he could see it, he wasn’t sure how real it was. If it was even in front of him at all. His responsibilities had built up so much that now he sometimes went days without even thinking of the Tree. He never felt guilty for forgetting, but creeping dread appeared in his heart all the same.

He shook his head, clearing the thought. His focus now was to make it over the first hill.

Gazing up, now closer, he chuckled. As they came into the winter months it decorated itself. Red and yellow baubles dotted it’s leaves, outshining the snow it refused to be covered in. A single red present lay under it’s protective green wings. At the very top, further than anyone could reach, shone the golden star.

He smiled and continued along. Every year, it would appear. Still he never knew how. He’d never seen anyone approach it. There were no obvious tracks in the snow. And yet it covered itself in the seasons greetings.

His only choice was to believe the Tree did it itself.

He planted himself by the Tree. A small dribble of snow fell on him. Yet it wasn’t biting, nor heavy. It was playful and fun. A little joke between the pair. He smiled and patted its roots, leaning on the strong trunks.

“Merry Christmas.”

Thumbnail painted by me