Sunday, December 1, 2019
I just put up a Christmas tree.
A live cut one. The house immediately smelled piney delicious.
Last year I traveled the week before Christmas, so decided no tree.
It was a mistake.
Putting up and decorating a tree is an historical event for me.
The ornaments have their stories to tell.
There are big ones, tiny ones, fuzzy ones, glassy ones…a number of handsome handmade family ones.
Completing the tree is always uniquely satisfying…. as if I am gathering my family and community over the past years.
My children are grown. Although I have six grandchildren, I prefer doing the tree alone (or at least as alone as Lucille the Dog allows).
The reflections are many times private, so being alone allows me to be slow with the memories.
This year was particularly reflective. I spent time going through two large containers of ornaments and seasonal keepsakes that my former companion left behind in moving out of the house.
There were ornaments that her children and family made. There were ornaments about her two babies. There were ornaments from her best friends.
She wanted to throw them away.
I seem to live in a time where one can culturally ‘throw away’ family and community.
We are mobile. We communicate electronically a great deal.
Our laws encourage ‘walking away’ in the name of independence and individual rights.
I decided to put some of her ornaments on the tree.
As I write this I am looking at the lit tree at the end of a beautiful cold day.
The house is warm and cozy. Lucille lies fed and asleep at my feet.
The tree is a story – telling itself each day through New Year’s Day.
I am fortunate to have those ornaments. I am content in her ornaments telling part of the story.
Richard Pace 