Something Shiny

The funny thing is that I didn't like dolls that much. I just liked wanting them, but that year one of my grandmothers obliged and she ended up under the tree. I didn't know what to do with the thing; don't have any idea what happened to it. I also don't think I ever gave her a name, which is strange because as a child I named everything.

What I remember is that I saw her in a catalog.

Anyway, as an adult Christmas is as much about baking, lights and music as anything else. I guess that's why I continue to put up a tree every year. And I do mean every year. I won't even be home for Christmas this year, but there's a tree in the living room. I bought some new ornaments, too.

(This year's additions include a glass duckie, a pickle, a needlepoint stocking, a gray and white cat, a couple of porcelain snowmen. My tree is and always has been a little like a crazy quilt.)

Putting up the tree was kind of a no-effort thing, because all I had to do was drag the fake tree parts up from the basement. That thing weighs a ton, and it was wrapped in a sheet, then tied with twine. Yes, as a matter of fact I did imagine that it was a bit like dragging a body, and I decided not ever to commit murder in my basement.

Five days later I have almost finished trimming the tree. This exercise takes so long because I have to think about where each ornament came from, recount the story behind it.

As I finished hanging baubles tonight, I realized that I really ought to write the stories out along with pictures of each ornament. And then I wondered about the audience. My niece and nephew are Jewish, and they don't celebrate Christmas.

My collection of ornaments has no value, except to me, except for the stories. And... just because the celebration and the rituals around it have been there, and will continue to be there.

I like that.

before - after