November 30, 2009
In one of the very first compromises made in the ongoing saga of Kelli And Manoj Live Happily Ever After, we agreed to invest the money in a fake Christmas tree. This was a difficult one for me - after all, my father could have very well served as the real-life stand-in for Clark Griswold. I spent many Christmases as a kid, trekking through our 40 acre plot in search of the perfect Christmas tree. And finding needles embedded in your carpet as late as March is just quintessentially American, no? Admittedly, a fake Christmas tree completely lacks all that is special about a live one. Needles in your feet or not.
Still. I suspect the kids will not care. They are napping and have no idea that while they were in school, I dutifully cleared the tree lurking in the basement of all spiders and whatnot, then dragged the thing up the stairs, adjusted the smushed-up branches and set it up in our living room. When they wake up, we will begin digging through ornaments of all sizes and shapes. Some are breathtakingly beautiful and shimmer in the light. Others are ugly and cheap. But they all mean something to me - every year, I buy a new ornament or two and when I am traveling, I limit my souvenir shopping to just a single ornament to remember my trip. Many of these ornaments hark back to my Single Girl Days, when I yearned of having my own little family with whom to share the holidays.
And now, I have that sweet, little family of which I always dreamed. Oh sure, my husband could have been the love child of the Grinch and Scrooge, but I have hope in our children that they will grow to love these tacky, kitschy ornaments as much as I do.
Our fire-friendly, plastic tree may be nothing spectacular, but it is ours.