my story

i decorated my tree today

decorating my tree is kind of a sacred occasion to me

i wait for the perfect day.
not too close to christmas, not too far away.
too close to christmas.... well, one gets ripped off of delicious christmassyishessness
too far..... crunchy needles and far too much vacumming

anyway.
today was the perfect day.
december 9th.
I found it.
good height.
nice roundness (christmas trees should be a little on the chubby side)
no gaping holes.
slender easy to manage trunk.

she's a keeper.

so into her cocoon of white plastic netting she went and off to her last home she was carriaged.
eric says she was being driven to her death throes.
he's not very festive when it comes to christmas trees.
scrooge.

i love the ritual surrounding the tree.
honestly, it's a good thing that eric doesn't have
much investment in the tree,
because i think i'd hurt him if he tried to introduce gold garland to
the mix.

ho ho ho

it had begun.
Johnny Mathis on the cd player,
giant tupperware ready to be opened
fire ablaze
all i was missing was the spiced cider on the stove
and cookies in the oven.
there are years i have done that too, but... well.... i wasn't
channelling martha this year. It's ok.
It well regardless.

I keep my ornaments in a giant, pepto gree tupperware.
inside, the ornaments are separated a by a cardboard grid.
there they were.
waiting for me.
blinking awake after a longgggg nap.

Some people adorn their trees with
green
red
blue
silver
balls they bought at walgreens.
i don't have those.

my ornaments tell a story.

the first one i took out was a paper mache one
my mom made before i was born.
she was young and creative and too poor to go to walgreens.
i think it was supposed to look like a ball,
but it was really just a wad of newspaper paper mached in blue
with gold specs

it's the most beautiful ornament ever made.

when i stood on the step stool and put it
near the top, i thought of her
i smiled and cried
all at the same time.
remembering
all
of
her.

there are the ones i made out of sugarless cookie dough
of my dogs
and random things that make me smile when i see them

there's the one that looks like a tennis ball and reminds me
of my dad before.
before.

there are the ones of ruby feathered cardinals
that remind of when i sat on a chair
my socked feet not quite reaching the floor
eating cereal on winter break
looking out the window of
grandma's kitchen

there are the ones that are old
and have a greyish green patina.
they belonged to my dad's
ex girlfriend from a million years ago
but i can't bear to give them back
because in years that were sad and mom-less
she gave me warmth and love and made me feel safe
at christmas time
so i keep them.

i don't think she'd mind.

my christmas tree tells my story
if only to me

tonite i sit here in the quiet
a fire
the white lights
and i have a sense of
home

sitting so close to
my

story.

Come see.

'll tell it to you.