"Marcoooo… Poloooo…"
"Marcoooo… Poloooo… "

The voices of my children ring out, they're loud in the cool air of this Southern California winter. Each of their voices comes at me from a different direction. I can't see them, but I can tell they're all close. Aimee and Jessica are together. I can hear them giggling and Jessie calling to her stepsister to wait up. Matthew is over to my right, the depth of his maturing voice is startling to me as I listen to him call out Marcoooo again. Mitchell answers him and I can tell he's behind me, just a few feet away, but I can't see him for all the huge Monterey pines that surround me. Then I hear my husband Dan's booming voice call out, "Marcooooo." And all of them answer him in turn. They play this game of hide and seek every year at the Christmas tree farm.
I call to them, "I've found it… now you all come find me."
"You have to say it right Mom." Jessica answers back, she's very close.
I call out to them again, this time with the right word to bring them to me, "Marcooooo."
Suddenly they're all around me and the six of us converge on the one tall tree I have picked. My children are giddy with the silliness of this morning and they're all a bit out of breath, their cheeks rosy and eyes bright. We check the tree's tag first, it's yet to be claimed. We walk around the massive base of it checking for holes or straggly branches. We look it up and down barely able to see its top. This is it, this year's Christmas tree.
"It's perfect Mom. Now can we go get hot chocolate and cookies?" Matt asks, his teenage boyness showing in this constant need for food.
"No, not yet, we have to have them mark it and take the picture." I say reaching to smooth down his tousled hair. He smiles at me and rolls his eyes as I get his hair just so, then he shakes his head messing up what I had just straightened.
"I like it messy. That's the way I want it."
"Just for the picture Matt. Then you can have it any way you want." I reach to smooth it again and he backs away around the tree. I meet him round the other side and tuck my arm in his giving up the battle of the hair. I wouldn't have won anyway.
The young man who works at the tree farm comes to mark our choice. He holds a big black marker over the tag waiting for us to give our name.
"What should it be this year?" I ask them all.
In one voice they say, "Slusby!"
That's who we are today here at the Cazzazza Christmas Tree Farm in Rancho Cucamonga. Not Slattery, not Busby, both fine names that they are proud of. But today, on this our annual Pick-Out-the-Tree day, we are the Slusbys.
"Do you want your picture taken?" The young man asks. "It's free when you come on the first day."
"Of course, we have to. It's why we come back every winter. We have pictures from every year we've been a family," I say as I get the six of us ready for this year's picture. I tuck Jessica in behind Mitch and move Aimee to the front. She used to be the tallest, now the boys have shot past her. I have to stand on tiptoes in my place at the back. Matt's head this year is even with mine. When did that happen? Dan reaches for my hand and gives it a squeeze. He knows how much this means to me. The young man waits patiently with his camera for us to get ready. We all smile and he clicks. In three weeks we'll come back and cut down our beautiful eleven-foot tree and then we will pour over the Cazzazaa's book of pictures from this day, eager to find our precious 4X6 nestled in among the other smiling families. Our picture will go in a frame matching all the others. This will make the ninth picture to hang on our wall.
They are growing up so fast, my four children. When I look at each of the pictures and see the changes in their beautiful faces it amazes me every time. As I look sometimes I remember the struggles, but more often I recall the wonderful times. My children aren't even fully grown yet each year seems to go a little faster than the last. Traditions are a way to make memories last and that's a part of this day. Mom and her traditions, my kids might say with a smile… my Pick-Out-the-Tree day and my annual Christmas letter that lets family and friends know all we have been up to the past year. A copy of our letter goes in a scrapbook along with their class pictures and pictures of them in whatever sport they played or photos of anything else really special that happened that year. The scrapbook sits on our coffee table all year long, waiting. Just the other day I walked through the living room and there were all four of my children sitting on the couch. They sat crowded together pointing at pictures, reading my words from years past and laughing and remembering. I will never need anything else for Christmas; perfect moments like these are everything I could ever want and more.

Laura can be found on the web also, address below.

http://www.angelfire.com/amiga/iecwc/index.html