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Before Meredith and I had children we had each other. And as young couples do we made a big deal out of a great many things. Like getting a Christmas tree. Early in our marriage we decided to take a ride out to a place out on the edge of town. I don’t remember the name of the place but I remember feeling like it was a drive. Which I didn’t mind because we had a fun car, one we had purchased with the help of some wedding money. I loved that car and this day was no exception.

It was Meredith’s suggestion to check this place out. Or it might have been a friend’s. On this I’m a bit fuzzy. But we made it there. It wasn’t just a tree lot. It was a farm type thing. Just the experience we were craving. I don’t actually recall details of that day save one. It’s the kind of thing one doesn’t forget. You see, we picked out a tree and it somehow got to our car. We lowered the back seats, put it in through the trunk and were about ready to leave. That’s when it happened.

I closed the trunk on the back of Meredith’s head.

She was pissed. And in pain. I felt like a scoundrel. Her eyes welled up with tears, trying to play it cool but obviously hurt. And a hair confused as she came to terms with the man she loves blindsiding her at the tree farm.

Of course, it was an accident. She forgave me and we have a humorous story of diversity and how we overcame, the kind of story people love. Romantic even.

Right, Meredith?


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