Christmas Tree Secrets That Changed My Life
Memories are the subtle thread that hold our lives together. Thankfully, painful memories fade, but the good that remain remind us that as long as they are held within our hearts, love can never die. I consider this every year when I carefully unwrap my Christmas tree ornaments and place them delicately on my beautiful white tree. For years, I had traditional live trees, but with age, I have opted for a very untraditional artificial white tree that I adore. Since my life is far from traditional; it suits me well. As I unpack each carefully stored ornament, I am reminded of various times throughout my life, some bad, some good, but they all involve the souls who I have loved and those who have helped to make me who I am.
After my marriage ended many years ago I decided it was important to make every ornament meaningful. Any piece that no longer held a personal significance to my history or to the woman I was becoming was unceremoniously thrown away. In the years that followed I continued to grow my collection with pieces that resonate with me and my little furry family. This year we lost my beloved dog Becky, but her essence continues to grace my tree.
I still have a good cry as I unwrap the two beautiful ornaments that my niece gave me as a gift the year before she was killed. The quirky red rocking horse and green dinosaur always hold center stage on my tree and I am grateful to have received these final mementos from my beautiful and unusual godchild. My first boyfriend Jimmy may have died many years ago, yet still I have his cute little blue Smurf that is now more than 44 years old. The twin ornaments I had made for my best friend Sharon while we were both dealing with numerous life changes one year, remind me that challenges will come and go, but with life long friends we can prevail. (One hangs on her tree and one on mine.) The Buffalo Skyline and the Beef on Weck ornaments (it’s a Buffalo, NY thing) remind me of my home town and all the people I love who still reside there. Whether the humorous 2020 ornaments with Zoom call and toilet paper references, German skis from a trip with my sister to Baveria, my macabre vampire and dragon ornaments, the teacher trinkets given by beloved students, a silver ball from my Christmas wedding in 1989 or even the silly little ouija board that reminds me of how important the spirit world is to me; every single keepsake holds a piece of my heart.
In the end, my tree is less a decoration and more a living archive of who I have become. Every ornament whispers a story, every story holds a truth, and every truth reminds me that love never leaves. It simply changes shape and waits to be remembered.