Today I bought a Christmas tree. I know…. I KNOW. When I went to Chicago before Christmas I stopped at this place and they had these beautiful life-like Christmas trees 50% off. I was tempted. But I decided to make a deal with the Universe. If one of those trees was available after Christmas and marked down to a ridiculously reasonable price, I’d adopt it.
It stood there, regal and green, twinkling its little lights in my eyes. The price tag screamed 80% off of the $550 original price. In my wildest dreams, I’d never pay that, but I could pay the $110 asking price. “But Christmas is over,” my rational brain said. Twinkle, twinkle… I thought of how hygge this would feel to have this beautiful tree in my living room twinkling away on a snowy morning in January. “If you don’t take me, nobody will,” she whispered. “I want to go home.”
I wandered through the vast empty Christmas shop to find a salesperson, and I located a man who was happy to find the tree in stock. “I was just looking at those out back,” he said to me. He asked me if I was going to set it up when I got home. “Of course,” I said with a laugh. I can’t imagine not having at least a month or so loving this tree with its multi-colored twinkling lights. What if it became a Mardi Gras tree decked out in purple, green or gold? How might it look as a Michigan tree going into spring, sporting natural Michigan trinkets or a red, white and blue Independence Day tree in July?
A neighbor down the street decorates an evergreen tree for every season. It acts as a milestone for all of the happy holidays of the year. His Valentine’s tree will no doubt pop up soon with its heart topper and red and pink lights. The green of his St. Patrick’s Day tree usually coincides with the snow melt. His enthusiasm for decorating his tree and sharing it with the neighborhood makes me smile with delight.
Twinkle … twinkle … My beautiful tree stands in the corner naked under its multi-colored pearls of light. “Rocking around the Christmas Tree” is blaring from my Christmas playlist. Bella’s eyes flash at the branches strung with lights no doubt hoping to climb it one day. Ashok snoozes on the sofa not cognizant of anything but my being home for the day. I’ll give my tree a day or two to settle in before I decide how to adorn her. She’s obviously taking in her surroundings and stretching her branches in anticipation of her new life. She’s mine, and I’m hers. Twinkle, twinkle little tree. You are home.