Thursday, December 30, 2010
Oh, Christmas Tree!
We will be ringing in the New Year within a few days, so that also means ringing out the old year. I've spent the past few days gathering up stuffed Santas and sprigs of holly and foreign glittery substances from the carpet. It's a full time job just to un-decorate from the holidays. It never fails that once I get the boxes marked "Xmas" into the attic, I find a stray bulb or a fat snowman or some Christmas item hiding behind the couch.
Although I have a scratchy throat and a (what's this crazy Southern Illinois weather?) headache, my Mission Of The Day is to disassemble and store away my Christmas tree.
Around Thanksgiving, I am in love with my Christmas tree. I haven't seen him in almost eleven months and I'm excited to welcome him back into my home. I don't even have second thoughts about moving the two-ton desk, the array of wall photos, the giant throw rug or the coffee table out of the way to make room for him.
He's so tall. So breathtakingly beautiful!
I adorn him with various ornaments and bling and sentimental embellishment. I caress his branches, flirt with his bulbs, and turn him on. And he rewards me with a glow that warms my heart.
I can't wait to awake each morning to see him. I sit in the darkness with only the brightness of his shining personality to light the room. I'm content. Just the sight of him makes me smile...
But, this quirky "tree love" is short lived.
Soon I grow tired of tripping over the moved furniture. I'm soon weary of the gaudy glitz of silver bells and plastic icicles and tiny pointed lights that glow obnoxiously in the corner like an alien. I'm sick of fake fir needles on the floor, drooping poinsettias poked amid the artificial boughs, and the crooked cardboard star that sticks to the ceiling.
I sorta ignore him. Walk past him like he's not even there.
I don't even want to turn him on anymore.
I flip on the lamp and the TV and go about my business like he's invisible. I don't even try to explain myself to him. And he just sits there in the corner and pouts.
He suddenly looks ridiculous in that silly skirt! He looks short. And stout. And a little less handsome. The shine has worn off- the romance has died. Our relationship grows more strained by the day and I know that one of us has to go...
Yes, oh, Christmas tree- you are going to the attic today. Sleep well, my friend. Enjoy the cobwebs and spiders and little furry mice. They'll keep you company for awhile.
I'll bring you back into the warmth and sunlight in eleven months or so. We will shine again. And dance and sing and love.
Relax. It will be here before you know it.
Posted by Rae Frazier