Up ahead, Chantelle ran along the paths between the trees, stopping to assess their height, the density of their branches, and the lushness of their color before moving on to the next one. Emily could easily imagine her as an older child, clipboard in hand, working her first job to earn pocket money.

But as she wondered about the future, Emily felt her mind being pulled back into the past. Chantelle, who reminded her so much of Charlotte, also reminded her of the loss of Charlotte, of the fact that her sister never got to grow up, that she never got to have a job during winter vacation. She had skipped through this very farm all those years ago, full of promise and potential, and then without warning her life had been snuffed out in the blink of an eye.

Emily looked ahead at Chantelle, and as she did so, the child morphed into Charlotte. Then Emily felt herself shrinking, until she was inhabiting a child-sized body. Her hands were suddenly swaddled with mittens. Snow began falling around her, clinging to the branches of the pine trees. Emily reached out with her small, mittened hand and shook one of the branches. A snow cloud puffed into the air, and the fine white powder dispersed. Up ahead, Charlotte was laughing, carefree and happy, her warm breath coiling through the air. She was wearing mittens too, and her favorite bright red boots looked stark against the backdrop of white.

Emily watched Charlotte stop beneath the tallest tree in the whole farm and gaze up with wonderment.

“I want this one!” the little girl cried.

Emily rushed toward her, kicking up snow in her haste. When she reached Charlotte’s side, she too gazed up at the enormous tree. It was astounding, so tall she could hardly see the top.

The crunching of footsteps in the snow made Emily tear her gaze from the tree and turn to look over her shoulder. There, stomping through the snow in large strides, was her dad.

“You girls need to slow down,” he panted as he drew up beside them. “I almost lost you.”

“We found the tree!” Emily cried with excitement.

Charlotte joined in, jumping and pointing up.

“That’s a bit big,” Roy said.

He looked tired today. Depressed. There were dark circles beneath his eyes.

“It’s not too big,” Emily said. “The ceilings are very high.”

Charlotte, as always, followed her sister’s lead. “It’s not too big! Please can we get it, Daddy?”

Roy Mitchell rubbed a hand over his face with exasperation. “Don’t test my patience, Charlotte,” he snapped. “Choose something smaller.”

Emily saw Charlotte recoil. Neither of them liked to anger their father and neither could understand how they had. It seemed like the smallest of things annoyed him these days. He was always distracted by something or other, always looking over his shoulder at shadows only he could see.

But Emily’s main concern was Charlotte. Always Charlotte. The little girl looked like she was on the brink of tears. Emily slipped her mittened hand into hers.

“This way,” she cried brightly. “There are smaller trees over here!”

And just like that, Charlotte cheered up, comforted by her older sister. They ran off through the snow together, leaving their frowning, distracted father to chase after them.

Just then, Emily snapped back into the present day. The snow of the past was no longer falling on the present, the Christmas trees of decades earlier felled and replaced with these new, young trees. She was back to the here and now but it took her a moment to reorient herself with her surroundings, to see Chantelle standing before her rather than Charlotte.

During Emily’s blackout, they’d manage to walk deep into the depths of the field. Here, the trees were so tall they cast shadows over everything, blocking out daylight. Emily shuddered, feeling colder now that the winter sun was hidden.

Up ahead, Chantelle was gazing at the tallest tree on the whole farm. It was at least fifteen feet tall.

“This is the one!” she cried, grinning from ear to ear.

Emily smiled. She wasn’t going to be like her father, dashing a child’s spirits. If Chantelle wanted the tallest tree on the farm, she was going to get it.

She walked up beside her and craned her head to see the top of the tree. Just like when she was a child, the tree seemed majestic to her.

“That’s the one,” Emily agreed.

Chantelle clapped in delight. Daniel looked somewhat disapproving of the elaborate choice, Emily thought, but he didn’t challenge them. He leaned down and helped Chantelle make the first cut with the ax. Emily watched them, father and daughter smiling and laughing together, and felt warm joy spread through her.