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Wednesday, December 7, 2016

The Stories the Trees Tell


When I was a kid, decorating our family tree was one of my favorite things to do at Christmas time.  Each year I’d pull ornaments from the box and get excited a bit more with each one I saw: the mint colored one that when you plugged in a tree light, it lit up to show Santa peeking into a living room with its own tiny tree, the Hallmark Eskimo’s my mom has been collecting since the dawn of time (there are seriously like 30 if them), or the little glass colored balls covered in glitter.  Seeing them on my parent’s tree brings me back to the days where I couldn’t wait until we got our tree and the branches “settled” (my dad’s stall tactic for having to bring the ornaments out of the attic) so we could fill them with all of the First Christmas ornaments and grandchild ornaments my grandma had bought; I couldn’t wait to fill them with our memories.  Our tree was a hodge-podge collection that, as I got older, I declared I would never have in my own house.  Flash forward fifteen years and I am eating my words in big heaping spoonfuls. 

This year I convinced Sean to buy a fake tree.  I know, I know, and I feel like a big ‘ole traitor on the inside.  I hate the mess though and I’m still finding remnants of last year’s tree in our sunroom and between the pine needles and the dog’s hair I spend most of the Christmas season incessantly sweeping and vacuuming and so Martha Stewart’s Alexander Pine it is!  It went up quickly and the ornaments were on the next morning (“We have to let the branches settle,” I told Kennedy).  I love watching her little hands carefully pick up the ornaments and decided were to place them as she yells out, “No, I’ll do this one, you take that one!” 

As we went through them it struck me: this tree tells a story.  It starts with a few ornaments Sean and I each have from our childhood, none that are anything beautiful but represent our pasts.  Next there's the woodland-y things, pinecones, squirrels, a few owls; I had a theme in mind once-it fell by the wayside with the exception of the bird we buy once a year to add on.  Then come all of the engagement ornaments-rings and hearts that we got the Christmas prior to our wedding.  After that there were wedding ornaments-First Christmas Married, ornaments for a wedding photo, and the set of very expensive, very fragile, German wedding ornaments my mom gave us for a shower gift symbolizing all of the important things of a marriage.  Next up is the New House ornament-I remember we bought it but didn't have a big tree since we moved in 10 days before Christmas so we stuck it on the table top tree we had from college.  That same year we were expecting Kennedy so we got tons and I mean tons of ornaments with a snowman and snow woman with a baby bump so excited for our little girl's arrival that coming May.  After that it became Kennedy's tree, full of First Christmas, godchild, granddaughter and great-granddaughter, princesses and other characters that filled our home the other 11 months of the year. And then the snowman family was back: snowman, snow child, and snow woman with a bump.  Though the months leading up to Christmas were filled with scary and stressful news, we were excited for Jack, and we were ready to share some branches with him.














And then because they were the first to go away so that they were protected the best, they were last out: the baby boy riding an elephant, a little angel on a bell, and his sand dollar-all a reminder of the little boy that came and left too soon.  There will be no more after those.  And that is just one more, tiny crack in my heart.  Just as there will always be a place for Jack in our home and in our hearts we will always have a place for him on the tree.  He is an incredibly important part of our story. 






So the simple act of hanging little trinkets on a tree in the middle of the room tells a story.  So far our story is filled with a lot of big moments, one of which is incredibly sad. During the holidays it is so easy to fixate on the sadness, the loss, the absence.  As ridiculous as it sounds, it only takes a quick look at that tree to remember all of the down right beautiful moments this life has brought me too. 


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