Flipette buried herself in the almost overpowering scent of Douglas fir, remembering, ahhhhhhh... remembering:  other Christmas trees, other banisters bedecked with garland, soft laughter, Joy to the World.  

It seemed like just yesterday.  Or the day before that, maybe a week or so.  But glorious all the same, those nights and days in Tobago.  On the beach, in the villa, even at the airport.  Flipette missed him so very much.  Sigh.  A long, cold, up north kind of sigh for a hot Caribbean...