Ornaments of Life

We've had a fake Christmas tree for 10 years. It was easier when we had three preschoolers. No chasing kids through massive tree lots while my hubby and I bicker over the "right" tree. No falling needles to be eaten and choked on. No forgetting to water the tree because I have laundry and spit-up and diaper rash on the brain.

After the boys got bigger, it was a habit we were in. We have the tree, so why go pay $40 for another one, real or not?

Then came the kittens. The kittens loved to climb and bat at things and play! The Christmas tree became their own private amusement park. We tried to deter them by squirting water at them. That was only a temporary fix. When we slept, they played. Every morning I found misplaced and broken ornaments. Eventually, several branches would accompany the glass shards on the floor. By New Years Day, they had left their permanent mark. The fake tree we had used for 10 years was unrepairable.

This Thanksgiving, my hubby picked up a new fake tree, by my request. However, it just didn't sit right with us. It was time to create a new Christmas tradition. I returned the plastic tree, tightly stuffed into it's box and two weeks later we ventured out into the snowy night to buy a real tree.

The experience was great. No arguing, a warm campfire, a tractor-pulled hayride through the beautiful tree farm. It was perfect.

The next day we erected our gorgeous tree. (I'm certain it was the best one on the lot and only fools came before us, why else was is still there waiting for us?) With three little helpers, it seemed almost magical how quickly the tree transformed. Lights and garland and ornaments were flying onto the tree.

An ornament my son made as a toddler, another that his brother made in pre-school, another that was a gift from my stepmom; "Oh, I love this one." "Grandma bought these for us, one snowman for each of us." "Oh look, a handcrafted angel from Stella!" "Nana helped you make that one." "You made this one with your Aunt." "Mom, remember these from our old neighbors." "Ahaha... this one is from my sister. I miss her." "Baby's First Christmas, one for each of you."

The memories of our loved ones and past Christmases flooded every open space on the tree. Many of the people from these memories aren't here anymore, but these decorations, these ornaments, these precious trinkets, they represent life. My life, my children's' lives, my relatives lives. This tree may be a living tree, but it wasn't truly brought to life until it was donned with our treasures.

The kids are already planning which ornaments they will take with them when they grow up and move out. The memories will live on with them for years to come.

Maybe I am just more sentimental this year, maybe it's because our tree is living, maybe I am intoxicated by the smell of pine; but I know that I am smitten with this tree that is very much alive.