The Douglas fir strung with lights on the town green, the chill to the air, the Marines collecting toys for tots, and the traditional holiday songs mean just one thing: Christmas time in Clifton. I love this time of year, but the holidays are bittersweet now. Mom tries to make our home as festive as possible, but it’s just not the same without Dad around.
“Who’s going to put up the Christmas tree?” Danny asks one night at dinner.
“Mark, that’s your job now,” Mom says. “Maybe you can pick up one this weekend at Jones Tree Farm. The bungee cords Dad used to tie it to the roof of the car are in the garage.”
“Okay, Mom, I’ll try to find a good one that’s not too expensive.”
“That would be nice. I tell you what, if you can put it up, Danny and I will string the lights and decorate.”
“Don’t
