O Christmas tree, o Christmas tree! You are so very many things. Love/hate, depending on the year. Such a mirror for my mood. One year I came home from a trip (from where I can’t even recall), and Hubbo and the boys surprised me by having the tree set up. I burst into tears, because I truly had worried that I wasn’t going to muster the steam to get a tree going that year. It’s a loaded emblem, the tree.
The mood this year is deep, backward-looking nostalgia. You know, “pleasure and sadness that is caused by remembering something from the past and wishing that you could experience it again,” the dictionary tells us.
Sometimes all it takes is a glimpse of an ornament bought long ago to launch me into the spiral of memory. Or a peek at an old post written a while back.
Here’s a tale of a rush-job knitted Christmas stocking and a misbehaving tree.
Good lord, that time when the barber shop closed.
That time the elves took over our life.
A list of guaranteed joymakers, for anybody who might feel a bit of sag this time of year.
That time with the lights. There have been many times with the lights.
I bought a whole set of LED Christmas lights this year—the solution to all my troubles. But I didn’t use them. “No twinkle. Too bright,” I said. But that’s not really what was up. It has just occurred to me, after 27 years of Christmas trees, that I actually relish the annual drama of the lights. I am nostalgic about bad Christmas lights.