Who knew you could get so emotionally attached to a Christmas tree….
I bought our/my first Christmas tree in 1993 when the Big Green Gummi Bear and I moved into our first flat. I spent a small fortune at the time on it, but it proved to be money well spent as the tree has come out of the box looking as fresh as ever every year until last year. (I can’t say the box aged as well.)
I swear that tree knew that last Christmas would be our last as a family of four. In my heart I knew it was our last Christmas as a family of four. When I brought the tree out of the box my emotions were already running high. Following my traditional routine, I fought the base into submission, started to assemble the tree which was in three sections then disaster struck. The plastic peg around the top section that should insert into the middle section crumbled into pieces leaving me with a metal spike instead that was too small for the hole.
I lost it. Floods of tears and a fair amount of sobbing that the tree couldn’t dare break now just when I needed it for our last Christmas together. (Ok I may have been a tad irrational, but life has been stressful around here for a long time and that was actually our third time of preparing for “last” Christmas.)
The duct tape duly came to the rescue and the top section was rammed into the hole. It held.
The vintage tree survived another Christmas, but I knew that it had been its last Christmas too. Unwilling to part with it, I put it back in the box and returned it to the loft.
Move on to this Christmas and we’re preparing for our first Christmas as a family of three. I’ll park the emotions associated with that for another tale. A few weeks ago, Boy Child and I were in the local garden centre, and they had their display of trees out. Taking a deep breath, I checked them out and listening to Boy Child’s pleas of “you need a tree that’s bigger than me” (He’s 6’1”) I chose a beautiful 7’ tree. Before common sense took over, I bought it. It was still only mid-November so way too early to put the tree up.
Last week the day came when I knew I had to put the decorations up or they may never go up. All the boxes and bags were duly hauled down from the loft including both the old and the new trees. Could I really part with my old faithful Christmas tree that held so many memories in its branches?
I knew I had to, but I realised I couldn’t part with all of it.
I opened the box and pulled it all out for one last time, running my hands over its branches then I painstakingly removed each of the small pinecones that were wired onto the branches and wound them round the branches of my new tree. Each pinecone that I secured onto its new home reminded me that I was intertwining Christmas past with Christmas present and that sat easier with my heart.
Christmas will feel different this year. How it works out remains to be seen but hopefully my new tree will enjoy its first of many Christmases to come as it stands twinkling in the corner of the room.
Coral McCallum 