I
~
was
a little girl.
~~~~~
Maybe five.
We were poor.
We lived where slash
~~~~~~
pines grow in abundance.
When they're saplings, if you look
carefully you'll find one shaped like a
Christmas tree.
~~~~~~~~~
So that's what my Mom did. She found
one perfectly shaped for Christmas. I don't know
exactly how she did it, but I expect she anchored it
in a bucket of dirt.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
My brother and I stood by filled with excitement. After
stabilizing the tree, the decorating began. We were filled with
pure glee. I don't know how to explain it, but on this occasion,
the tree and my Mom were one.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
There was an interdependence
between her and the tree for the enchanting, magical,
storybook experience that was unfolding.
She strung bright red roping around it, then tossed cotton bolls saved
back from the harvest all about on it.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I was drawn into an unbelievably beautiful fantasy, the kind you see in children's
movies where stars waft from their eyes when they're caught up
in wonder and excitement.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I believe I would have exploded with excitement if those
stars had not been wafting from my eyes. Could it be that
when we're caught up in such a powerful fantasy that stars wafting
from our eyes are necessary as a release to keep us from bursting with joy?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Today for the umpteenth time,
I told my Mom that to this day, that was the most beautiful Christmas tree I've ever seen.
Happy Holidays everyone.
tt