O Tannenbaum by Barbara Quinn

I spent the past few days decorating my house for the holidays. I’m having a crowd for Christmas and am looking forward to spending time with everyone. The more I can get done now, the less stress there will be when the holiday arrives. Busy, busy, busy. And so I finished trimming the Christmas tree last night. Then I took a deep breath and slowed down. What a joy it was to step back, turn on the lights, and take in the glorious decorated boughs.

My eyes ran over the branches and I sighed. There are felt ornaments I sewed when I was a child. There is one my son made from a cardboard eggshell carton son and another he made in nursery school. The cross he made in high school sits beside the sequined bell my Aunt made for us as newlyweds. My best friend’s Mom knitted us dozens. There are special glass ones that were handed down by my grandmother to my mom and then to me, and many more that my husband and I bought together: the ballerina, the skier, the huntsman. They all dangle and delight the way they have for many years. There are the ones I bought with my son at the post Christmas sales. It’s a hodgepodge of love on that tree. It made me smile to see all those years strung across the branches. It wouldn’t make it into any designer magazines, but it’s the prettiest thing in the room and now each time I pass it I find myself in a better mood.

Last year I shipped a bunch of ornaments to my son and his wife to seed their collection for their tree. Their dog devoured a few but there are still plenty of memories left for their branches. That gave me an excuse to pick up a few more ornaments at a craft fair this year for them. I went for the blowfish turned into a bird with a hat, and one that reads “Baby’s First Christmas”. Ah, I’m grateful for so many years spent with so much love. Shine on, tree!