Oh, Christmas Tree
This entry was posted on 12/25/2007 12:23 PM and is filed under uncategorized.
In the wee hours of Christmas Eve, I always sit beside our tree for a while to enjoy the peace and quiet. Let me set the scene for you. The fireplace is glowing, but the stockings haven't been filled yet. The cat's drinking water out of the tree stand and idly batting at ornaments. The children are nestled all snug in their beds. (No, wait…I hear the microwave. Someone's eating, and I don't think it's Santa zapping his chocolate chip cookies.) My Santa is asleep in his recliner, snoring, with his mouth open wide, the remote clutched tightly in his hand. Maybe he's dreaming of sugarplums. What are sugarplums anyway?
Back to the tree…I've always thought of our tree as a family tree. We go every year to the Christmas tree farm, where, after walking for miles in circles evaluating our choices, the love-of-my-life chops down a "real" tree. (As opposed to a "fake" tree—which is how the eldest child refers to cedar trees.) Battling nausea, (the youngest child and I get carsick, and the Christmas tree farm is nowhere near our house), we cart home our perfect tree.
Arriving home, furniture is moved, and amid much grumbling, the tree is placed in its stand. Lights are tested and strung. I unpack the precious ornaments with each spurring a memory. All must go on the tree: the elves from my childhood, a bedraggled bunny bought for me by my husband before we were married, two wooden monkeys symbolizing our two girls, a raggedy construction paper angel made by a child. Our tree is finally topped by a star 'cause when I was little, we always had a star.
The kitchen is silent now. Life is as normal as it gets in Irene's household. The people I love are safe at home. Now, it's my job to fill the stockings and drag out the hidden presents.
Merry Christmas to you and yours! Gotta go. It's time to put Santa to bed.
