O Christmas Tree, O Christmas Tree
Picking out our Christmas tree has become a yearly outing requiring a defined aesthetic and plenty of time. There is no ‘one and done’ in this process-it is slow and careful and commands both patience and diplomacy. Year to year we each have a tendency to take credit for the most wonderful tree selection. Once the evergreen is tied onto the roof of the SUV we traditionally make a stop at the Corner for a bowl of chili to celebrate and a chat about what lies ahead this holiday season.
The branches of our Christmas trees have to be so very sturdy in order to hold all of the memories suspended there. I think our trees have a way of recording and telling the story of our lives -and maybe that’s why we are so anxious to have them lighting our living rooms.
We were married at Christmas so of course we have a collection of “First Christmas Together’ ornaments -one of a Victorian couple skating on a teeny tiny pond. There’s a small pink angel holding a golden trumpet announcing our daughter’s first Christmas, there are miniature framed pictures of our beloved dogs who are always in our hearts. We have corks made into ornaments from my father’s haul seine nets, ornaments from children I’ve taught, handmade popsicle snowmen from our daughter’s kindergarten days and treasured ornaments from friends over the years that call them to mind each time I see them. One of my sisters included an ornament as a gift topper each and every year-an abacus of time. Each time we go on a trip we pick out an ornament for our tree to remind us of our travels. Perhaps my most treasured ornament is one my mother made of felt, of a girl with a fishing pole over her shoulder (unfortunately over the years the pole went missing). When I hold that ornament, I know the love that went into each stitch is still resting there – I can feel it. And the white twinkling lights, they shed a luminous glow over each and every memory.
My mom used to say she would ‘talk to the Christmas tree’. Sitting quietly at night I think she was revisiting and reopening the memories -the memories of her six kids growing, the memories of love and loss, the memories of years and lifetimes lived of Christmases past and a hope and a prayer for more Christmases to come. More than the ball dropping on New Year’s Eve, I believe it is the Christmas tree that marks time, holds onto time and helps us to appreciate time. Our tree, filled with all of its memories, becomes the center and heart of our home.
As people age or become too busy- they may opt for the small ceramic tree with built-in lights that requires no set-up or clean-up just a wall plug. I imagine that all of the memories of their past are resting safely in their hearts. For as long as we are able, we hope to make that annual trip to the Christmas Tree lot, find the ‘perfect’ tree and head to town for a bowl of chili. Some traditions are just worth holding onto.
