I've always had a strange tradition around this time of year. I turn on the lights of the Christmas tree and turn off all the other lights in the house. I sit in my pj's and snuggle up in a blanket on the couch and just stare at the lights of the tree. I distinctly remember doing this as a little girl and the tradition endures even still. On this evening, I'm carrying on the tradition and staring at my 30th Christmas tree.
December has always been a magical month for me. A birthday at the beginning of the month and my favorite holiday at the end. A whole month of celebrating, beauty, happiness, presents, decorations, beautiful lights and family. What's not to love?
As I stare at my 30th Christmas tree, it strikes me as the complete opposite of so many of my trees growing up. They were huge and covered in multi-colored blinking lights. They had hand-made ornaments adorning them and I spend hours rearranging the ornaments to perfection and scouting out the presents underneath. My tree this year is about 5 feet tall and is simply adorned with white lights, red berries and gold leaves. It is a grownup tree. There is no childish wonder and fascination, just a subdued elegance and a simplicity due to being too tired for more effort. Looking at this tree makes me realize how utterly 30 years can change a person.
As a child, I couldn't get the tree up fast enough. I would have put it up the day after Thanksgiving if I could convince my parents. I wanted the biggest tree and I wanted it to be completely drenched in lights and ornaments. I wanted incessant Christmas music. When I got a set of lights for my birthday to decorate the outside of our house, I literally bounced off the walls with excitement. As an adult, I kept forgetting to get a tree. Life has been busy and I keep thinking "It'll only be up for 3 weeks!! So much work . . . should I even bother?" The main reason I got my 30th Christmas tree this year is in memory of that little girl. I remember the magic and wonder that I felt growing up. I can literally close my eyes and see my younger self cuddled up many years ago and staring at her 8th Christmas tree . . . her 12th Christmas tree.
As I hit this slightly significant milestone in life, I will try to remember that you are only as old as you feel inside. I can close my eyes and reach back to find my younger self, filled with wonder and possibilities . . . the girl with the big imagination, silly and lovely dreams, and a tradition of staring at the beauty of a softly lit tree and taking it all in.
