December 23,1996 –
Janet put the finishing touches on the Austrian Pine that dominated the Great Room. The tree sparkled, showering reds, yellows, blues, and greens against the wood paneled walls. The tall windows overlooking the valley threw her reflection back at her as she stood on the upper rung of the stepladder.
Placing the silver seven-pointed star over the top spire of the tree, she glanced down at her husband. Dressing the Christmas tree had once been his job. Now, at sixty-seven, and with his Parkinson"s starting to rage, he had grudgingly let the job fall to her.
“It looks splendid,” he said, his mottled and bony hands tightly gripping the ladder rails.
Translated, you can get down now dear before you hurt yourself. She moved a family ornament, a small red teapot, to another
