I Had An Epiphany

I started decorating the family Christmas tree a very long time ago, when I was a teenager. There's an art to it, more instinct than training. When we got married and Ken brought home our first tiny tree, I hand-made all the ornaments and strung popcorn and cranberries. It was just scrumptious. Over the years it became somewhat of an obsession -- bigger, better, fuller. And always a real tree, that was especially Ken's wish. I began decorating for other people as well, usually for pay. I'd try to do my own first, so I wouldn't be burned out from putting up everybody else's. By Christmas, our trees would be crispy-dry, ready for the fireplace. But I'd let them hang on at least until January 6, when they say the Wise Men visited Jesus. 

When we moved to Villa Rica in 2012, my nest was emptied out except for one child and she was away at college. Our three sons were married, with their own trees in their own houses. I thought I needed something more to do, so persuaded the arts committee to have a tour of homes. I figured it would give me incentive to decorate and also help us get to know people in our sweet town. I put a post on Facebook, asking for tree donations. Next thing you know, I've got five of them, all artificial, to Ken's horror. We had a rip-roaring time on the tour, and our house was filled with all manner of trees. I'm exhausted just thinking about it. I tried to keep up the multiple-tree thing for years, but grandchildren, the wind ensemble, and real estate began encroaching more and more into my life. I was still decorating for other people, but began to pull back on it a bit, keeping just one of my clients. I gradually receded on the amount of trees in my own house. But I may have become a bit of a diva about all of it, along the way.  

Then came 2024 and the year of post-menopausal, dried-out tendons. Two meniscus tears in my left knee called for surgery, but physical therapy somehow kept me away from the knife. I was feeling pretty good about things when our wind ensemble played across Italy in June, averaging about 25,000 steps a day on this less-than-fit body. I came home with two tears in my left Achilles tendon, all swelled up like a goose egg. Months of physio, medications, one giant boot and a lot of griping, then Christmas decided to show up. My one decorating client called. I wailed about my inability to currently climb a ladder. Close to thirty years, been hauling it up there to her big, gorgeous house. But this year, I am Galadriel (Lord of the Rings): "I must diminish and go into the west..." So here I sit, in the west, staring at my four walls with ice and red-light therapy on my still-pitiful Achilles. They say it needs surgery, but I've heard that before. 

When I took down my decor last year, I noticed that my trees were all becoming decrepit, strowing spent needles all over the house. So when Ken and I cleaned out the barn in the spring, I put all of them out at the curb. You can get rid of pretty much everything that way, when you live in town. Within minutes, they were all gone. All of them. Since I needed a new one, my daughter-in-love said that Home Depot had a tree that had gone viral and that I should try to get one. It's called the "Grand Duchess." Isn't that my name? It was beautiful, looked like a real tree, and was not terribly expensive. I got on a waiting list and checked every day. Months went by with no luck. But one fortunate day I was in the store and found three of them. I quickly got Papa to load one up. Somebody said it was November, so my daughter put it up for me and turned on the lights. It was all true. It looks like it's real, has the most beautiful twinkles I've ever seen on a tree, and it's nine feet tall. 

I got a grandchild over here to help me decorate. We pulled some things out of the barn, but decided to leave my tree as it was, with just the lights on. I ain't fit for no ladder. We gussied up the mantle with greenery, lights, some big nutcrackers and  23 (count 'em) stockings. There's a big wreath on the front door and I'm calling it a day. Normally, my tree is barely visible underneath all the trimmings. But I'm feeling really, really good. The diva is taking a holiday. All the presents are bought, the tree is twinkling and we're all still breathing, for the moment. I stopped and thought about why we're doing this - about a manger, a Lamb, redemption. It might not be about the decorations at all...