I had this Thanksgiving weekend fully planned out, strategically designed to maximize the time to get everything done that needed to be completed before my Wildcat son returned to the land of purple gloom.
Unfortunately, my highly coordinated plans derailed early in the week, and have never gotten back on track since. The weekend is nearly over, the Thanksgiving holiday is almost gone, and I have yet to do anything that I most wanted to accomplish, other than baking a turkey, which wasn't without a hitch in and of itself.
I did get out to the stores, where the holiday season is now underway in full force. Retailers are pulling out all the stops, in a crescendo of buying enticements designed to pull in even the most reluctant of spenders. Each year I feel increasingly disconnected from the buying frenzy - with no small children, there is no hot toy to be had, no item without which Christmas will be less magical.
Instead, I can now take time and be more thoughtful, giving gifts that are unique and designed to be appealing to the gifted for their sentimental value, more than any monetary value that they might have attached to them. Some of the happiest gifts I've ever been given would not require an insurance rider for their value, but they are irreplaceable for me, and priceless.
The one thing I most wanted to do with both of my kids present seems slightly out of reach at this moment. Without the centerpiece of the celebration, the rest of it doesn't really seem to inspire the holiday spirit in me, even if I did finally get the cards in the mail, and the decorating spirit is now moving within.
Yesterday, when I got up, it was with the full intention of getting our Christmas tree, that sublimely scented symbol of Christian renewal that fills home and nostrils with the eminence of the holiday. Unfortunately, Mother Nature was not on the same page.
First it was raining, then it was snowing, then it was raining again. If you do not know my family, we are not the hardy pioneer stock that settled this prairie land so many years ago. At the first sign of precipitation, I would hear a chorus of complaints about the cold, not wanting to get shoes wet, and the urgency of doing something, anything, other than experiencing the great outdoors in all it's wet glory.
Naturally, knowing this about my family, I immediately revised my original plan, putting off the tree expedition for today, before Adam leaves. I used my time wisely, getting out my Christmas cards which I traditionally mail on Thanksgiving Day, but which had crept up and surprised me undone this year. I thought surely it would be a more fortuitous day for the celebration of green today, since it rarely snows this early, and when it does, it generally melts immediately.
When I got up this morning, however, it was not to sunshine and dry ground. On the contrary, there is actual SNOW out there, and it seems to be making a home on my lawn. Which does not bode well for the procurement process, I must say. I rather fear that this annual Thanksgiving weekend event is going to be waylaid by the weather. I fear we will not find ourselves in possession of our Tannenbaum at the end of the day, and all that glitters in our household will not be ornaments and twinkle lights on a tree.
I am eager to hustle out and get this tree, so I will have the opportunity to get full enjoyment of it, and will be able to see it and experience it as long as possible. Thus, this morning, my disappointment, as I realize that the tree will probably have to wait for another day.
My tree means a lot to me, more now than it used to, in fact. It is disappointing to me to have to put off this annual exercise in family unity, as we come to negotiated agreement on which evergreen will best represent the holiday spirit for each one of us. It is the usual culminating experience of Thanksgiving for me, and it is a moment that I treasure each year, at least in part because it is something the three of us have always had fun doing together.
One of the best things about being divorced, I've found, is the ability to make any decision I want without regard to another person's wishes. [Well, except for my children, who pretty much dictate everything all the time.] When I was married, we had a "pretty" tree, with lovely crystal, glass, and porcelain ornaments for the main floor living room. It was a formal tree, to match the formal room in which it was situated, a room that was rarely used, uncomfortable, a pass through place with little value to me.
When I got divorced, one of the things I needed to do was to eliminate that formal room, and replace it with one that was welcoming and pleasant, one in which people who entered our front door would wish to sit and visit awhile. I sold off the furniture, which was very serviceable still, since it was rarely used, and bought some contemporary items that are fun and comfortable.
Another thing I did, to go along with that new casual comfort, was to move the family tree, the one with all the fun kid's ornaments that we have collected over the years, upstairs to the space where we spend all our time. It is, in some ways, a metaphor for my divorced life, that the family tree which was once relegated to the unseen level, where it was rarely enjoyed, is now front and center, and in full view of everyone who comes to the door.
I still have my fancy tree, of course. I think this year it will be in the family room downstairs, which is enjoyed by teens on a fairly regular basis, and they may enjoy having that space decorated for them, too.
But the one I most look forward to is the one that will occupy center stage, the focal point of our holiday decorations. I look forward to unpacking the clothespin Rudolph that my son made for me when he was little. I love the Gingerbread Man with the missing Red Hot buttons that my daughter made for me when she was in preschool.
When my son was born, I began a tradition of giving him an ornament every year, thinking that by the time he was grown and had a tree of his own, he would have a lovely starter set of ornaments that would be meaningful and important to him. He is now 23, and his ornaments fill that tree with warm memories of happy occasions, and my daughter's ornaments do the same. I have a few that I have been given as well, not the beautiful crystal and glass decorations of the formal tree, but warm and happy informal decorations, like the informality that rules in my post-married life.
I will have my tree sooner or later, and it will be beautiful as always. I will decorate it with twinkling lights and our precious ornaments of years already gone, and the memories that we each hold as the ornaments move from box to tree will warm our hearts and brighten our spirits.
Each time I look at the tree, I will be reminded that although my life has changed over the years, and things look very different now, change isn't always a bad thing. Sometimes, a transformation is what you need to make your life full and complete.
Oh Christmas Tree, oh Christmas Tree, your branches green delight us. I can't wait to bring you home, and enjoy the glory that is the Christmas season once again!
