We arrived at the Christmas tree lot after dark. My wife and I walked the long aisles of pinery, scrutinizing each tree as though it were asking for our kid’s hand in marriage.

Most trees were standing erect, like soldiers undergoing inspection. Others were slumping like they were tired of playing the game.

I noticed a large family also looking at trees. They were in our aisle. Their oldest son was extremely tall. Very skinny. But very young. Maybe 15 years old, towering over all other customers by at least a foot. He had the face of an infant.

I had seen this family in the parking lot earlier. They had arrived in a rusted economy vehicle. Their clothes looked worn. And even though it was 30-odd degrees outside, some of the kids were wearing Dollar General-style flip flops.

“Which tree

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