I love Christmas trees. I’ve been watching my neighbours’ Christmas tree in their window for a few days. There are two strings of lights that flash and different frequencies and a few that are always on. I can’t see ornaments (because that’d be creepy), but I’ve been watching. Yesterday, Mike and Connor put the lights on our tree. Now it’s my turn to pull up the boxes of ornaments and find the most excellent places for all my tissue-paper wrapped treasures. I love this part. Tonight, I’m going to pour myself a glass of cheer, and have at it. Excellent.
When we went to Disney before Christmas I loved going to the different resorts and parks and seeing the excellent themes on each tree. I like going to gift shops to see the kitschy feathery glittery ornaments. Even lobbies of chiropractors offices and the Tannery buildings and restaurants are all themed with the few colours or shapes of ornaments. My tree is a glorious not-theme. When I look at it, I see all the experiences and relationships that have got me here. There’s an ornament from every trip we’ve taken as a family, ornaments purchased at craft or pottery shows that I attended with friends, ornaments given to me by childhood friends and coworkers, ones I made myself, ones that Connor made for me, and ones that once hung on my grandparents’ tree. The most recent additions are the ones that Connor got for me in Berlin, Paris, and London this summer. The tree spins a history of the path that got me to this place in my life.
This Advent, may I celebrate the paths I’ve chosen, been shoved onto by circumstance, and merged with others. May the path that leads to the Christmas trees of the future be as rewarding and love-filled as the one that’s gotten me thus far.