When we finally bought our first home in late August, one of the things I looked forward to most was putting up a Christmas tree. The tree was one of my favorite things about the holiday season when I was growing up. My brother and I would take turns sleeping on the couch in the living room just so we could be near the tree, with it's twinkling lights getting juuuust warm enough to make the room smell extra piney. The John Denver and the Muppets Christmas tape played very softly in the background. It felt magic.
Our ornaments were an eclectic assortment of things collected over the years. Many were given to us as gifts. Others were picked up as souvenirs on vacation. Some are storebought, others handmade. They all bring back memories. There's the little green alien in a flying saucer given to me by my BFF in high school back when we thought the X-Files was the greatest show on television. There are lots of cats, given to me after my brother got me a pet cat in high school, and everyone assumed I was a die-hard cat person. There is the lavender paper Christmas ball, a gift from my mother's hairdresser friend the year I came out. "Did you notice the color?" he asked with a smile and a wink. There is the glittery wreath that I worked so hard on in elementary school in an effort to impress the teacher I so admired.
Our ornaments were an eclectic assortment of things collected over the years. Many were given to us as gifts. Others were picked up as souvenirs on vacation. Some are storebought, others handmade. They all bring back memories. There's the little green alien in a flying saucer given to me by my BFF in high school back when we thought the X-Files was the greatest show on television. There are lots of cats, given to me after my brother got me a pet cat in high school, and everyone assumed I was a die-hard cat person. There is the lavender paper Christmas ball, a gift from my mother's hairdresser friend the year I came out. "Did you notice the color?" he asked with a smile and a wink. There is the glittery wreath that I worked so hard on in elementary school in an effort to impress the teacher I so admired.
Our first tree in our new home is decorated from about the waist up. It is surrounded by a superyard. Rather than presents, the area under our tree is frequently filled with blocks, shoes, remote controls, mail, and anything else the kiddos throw over the gate. The nice warm bulbs of my childhood have been replaced by the more responsible LED lights, which sadly don't emit enough heat to activate my spinning ornaments, the only item I inherited from my grandmother. There is still the mishmosh of ornaments, some from my love's childhood and some from my own. She was raised Catholic, so there are some angels represented in her collection. I didn't have a religious upbringing, so my ornaments include a large number of animals and snowmen. And then there are ornaments from the yearly vacations we took together. There are the ornaments we bought at a Christmas store the year we gave up our vacation to pay for fertility treatment after fertility treatment. There are baby's first Christmas ornaments. The ornaments are a record of who were, who we are, our lives together, and who loves us. And each night after dinner has been eaten, kids bathed and put to bed, and dishes washed, we put back the shoes, and the remote, and anything else that has been thrown under the tree. With nothing but the glow of Christmas lights illuminating the room, my love and I sink into the couch and get to relax and have adult conversation for the first time all day. We are able to enjoy the quiet, in our beautiful home, while our amazing children sleep upstairs. And it feels magic.
2 comments:
sounds like great memories of the past and amazing memories in the making!
aw, i love the last few sentences of this post! :D
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