Christmas Tree

The smell of pine needles rush in as I hear the front door open

Chilling musky air fills my lunges as I hear my dad thump up the stairs

Opening the door, my mom asks how it went

My dad murmurs something as he his shoes

Clunk against the cheap fake wood flooring

Henry's distinctive little voice that never seems to turn off

Creeps up the stairs

Then I smell the pine needles get closer as the tree

Scrapes against the crappy garage stairs

I can taste the Christmas smell it gives off

As the boys come on in I can smell snow and cold winter air seep from their coats