I’m going home early for Christmas this year, and I decided to get a tree today so I can enjoy it for the next few weeks before I take off. I thought doing all the decorating alone might be a little sad, but it was actually pretty peaceful and nice.
I felt really accomplished for getting the tree into and out of my car alone. The guy at the tree farm didn’t think I could do it and insisted on getting me a rope to tie it to the top, but I told him I knew a thing or two about shoving things in my trunk and he just watched me with a sort of bemused expression as I crammed the tree in there. When I finished, he went, “Well! Merry Christmas! Wow!” He said Merry Christmas with the cadence of Jimmy Stewart in It’s A Wonderful Life saying, “Hot dog!” I just chuckled at him.
My tree-topper star was the first thing out of the box of decorations I unpacked, but I still put it up last, even though no one would have known if I hadn’t. I didn’t know I was such a traditionalist. I also got a little choked up when I pulled out the felt ornaments I made for Toph and Charlie the year we lived with the devilcat Sebastian, who knocked our tree down and broke all our ornaments. Twice. What a jerk.
And now, I’m sitting in the living room with just the lights from the tree and the garland I strung keeping me company. Siena is snuggling by my leg and I’m drinking a little spiked coffee and listening to some marimba-heavy Christmas music, and I couldn’t ask for a better evening. There’s something really great about having space in my head for reminiscing and deep thinking and just generally enjoying the glow of the tree.