One of my most treasured family traditions is decorating the Christmas tree. It doesn’t matter if the tree is huge and live or tiny and artificial. The ornaments make the tree.
Each ornament represents a part of my life. Some are from places I’ve visited. Others represent my heritage or various life events. A few are just fun or beautiful and collectable. The most special ornaments are my favorite childhood storybook characters like Peanuts, Ziggy, and Pooh. This year, I gave away one that reminded me of a bad part of my life so every ornament takes me to a happy place.
Each year, we bring the two heavy storage bins downstairs. Then we begin the unpacking and decorating process. It usually takes the better part of an afternoon and evening to fill the tree.
The ornament collection started when I was a little girl and made ornaments as crafts. Through college, I acquired new ones that reflected other stages of my life. After Thanksgiving, Dad would put the tree up and add the lights. Then my sister, mom and I added Mom’s ornaments.
Mom sent my ornaments with me after college to fill my tiny tree. I continue to add to it. The saxophone is for my talented other half who plays sax in a couple of local bands. I suspect we’ll bring home a locally made ornament from our Eastern Caribbean cruise holiday vacation.
If there’s ever a fire or flood, these boxes of precious contents would be the next thing I’d save once the people and pets are safe.
Throughout the season, I enjoy gazing at the tree and fondly remembering the story behind each decoration.
Enjoy your traditions, and happy holidays to all!
New starts mean new rules. Can she triumph through the challenges?
My boyfriend believed I was too gutless to leave. He was dead wrong. I graduated Harvard early and left his hot temper and everyone else behind for Dallas. Determined to make it on my own, I land a second job bartending at the neighborhood pub, smack in the middle of drama central, where almost every jerk in the neighborhood hits on me.
A week into the job, the neighborhood’s very popular drug dealer falls to his death a few feet from the table I’m serving. The cops say suicide, but the hot guitar player in the house band and I suspect foul play, and we intend to prove it. Digging deeper, we’re drawn closer to each other. Then we make a shocking discovery. We know the murderer.