I have a Noble Fir in my living room. Full of lights and hangings and glitter and memories. It dazzles and catches the light, just the way I like it to. The ornaments are as symmetrical as they're going to get, no matter how many times I place and replace, searching for an impossible balance. But such is life. And how my mind works.
I was staring at the tree this morning. And again, tonight.
Because I never pictured my own Christmas tree. With balanced or imbalanced ornaments. Or a thousand lights that my husband wound and wound until every piece of wood and greenery was touched.
These were not the things that I thought of when I was younger. This wasn't the life that I dreamt about, because I didn't dream about such things. They were too pretty. And perfect. And I didn't think I was worthy of those things; of this life.
I didn't dream about a wedding, much less a husband. I didn't dream about a home. Or a family.
I just thought it would be me. Forever. Maybe a dog or two. And a small place by some water.
And that would have been my life. I kind of just assumed and accepted that notion of solitude...and the span of forever.
So I have this tree and yes, it's just a tree, but it's not just a tree. It's a tree that will be used to celebrate life and love and family. It is a tree that was plucked from a mountainside. By my husband. On a tree hunting expedition that I have been enveloped into year by year by year. It's a tree that annually marks a twinkling dot on a timeline, reminding me of when Justin and I got together. It holds memories and offers a reminder that life is more.
So much more.