The first decoration to grace my tree was not even mine. A snowman belonging to Little Mae appeared at the top.
Here, Mommy. You can use this for your angel.
And so it was.
And so the tree stayed, and stayed, and stayed this way.
Until an eleven-year-old bundle of crazy-making boy nonchalantly entered the room, announcing that I could have this star that he made as a decoration for my tree.
I don’t really need to hang it on the living room tree.
And so it was.
And so it remained, and remained, and remained for more days.
Until two boxes of candy canes were purchased to be hung by the kids on the family tree (2 boxes, 12 per box, divided by 4 kids equals 6 per kid to hang). Two canes mysteriously appeared on my tree, flanking the star.
One for mommy and one for daddy.
And so it was. Such generosity.
And so it remained for time and time and half a time until I finally got up the gumption to just open my ornament box and begin hanging things.
The moment didn’t have to be perfect.
The decorating happened four days later than the very latest I was hoping for, because I do that to myself. Put on this immense pressure to. . .decorate a plastic tree? Really to just do whatever it is I think needs to be done in whatever context I happen to be living.
The ornaments hanging are mostly sheep, but there are others belonging to Steve and to both of us that also grace the tree.
I have a lot of sheep.
Many moons ago, Steve started a tradition of giving me some sort of a sheep ornament each year. Add to that ornaments made or given by friends and children, and I have quite an eclectic collection.
Such a story.
Always a story. Never enough time for all of the telling. Thanks for reading what there is.
More to come. . .maybe. (There! Now I can take the pressure off.)