Until about ten years ago we always had a live tree, when the boys were little we even went to the farm and cut ours down. When we moved to SoCal I decided to go “fake” mostly because I didn’t want to move the super duper heavy tree stand. What a strange thing to draw the line on when moving a houseful of stuff. I went to JC Penney after Christmas and bought a modest tree on sale, a “pine”, and it has stood the test of time. It’s a little wobbly on the top but the lights still work and when it is all dolled up with ornaments it is just as sweet as can be.

Today I am putting it away again. Ever since I was a little kid, I always felt so sad removing the ornaments, the tree having done its job and now seemingly useless (except for the birds in the backyard). One year our when I was about ten our tree was kind of scraggly. My parents were laughing saying it was a “Charlie Brown” Christmas tree. They found me sitting aside and crying because I felt sorry for the little tree and that they were making fun of it. (Way to humble your parents and make them feel like shit at Christmas, Mary…).

I still have that emotional attachment even to this fake tree. Every year I think maybe this year I’ll get a real tree and every year I take it out of the bag and unfurl its branches and have no desire for any other tree than this one. Today removing the ornaments I noticed something. I didn’t feel bad. Rather I found myself gently removing the garland and already looking forward to next year when I can make her beautiful again. Grateful that she has served me so well.

She is older now, like me. A little rickety. Kind of tilted. Older but not ready for the trash heap yet.

See you next year, old gal.