I put up my Christmas tree tonight. Yep, skipped straight from Halloween to Christmas. Being gone for Thanksgiving though makes me feel like that’s okay. There’s that, and the fact that I do not own any cornucopia decorations.
I do, however, own a Christmas tree. It’s one of the easy ones, already strung with lights. Managing to drag it up from the basement storage was not easy, but definitely worth it. I didn’t put it up last year, so it was a surprise to open the boxes with the decorations.
I’d forgotten how many ornaments I have, and I thought I would never be taken with a sentimental, schmaltzy attachment to decorations, but I was wrong. The tree skirt my grandmother gave me and the disco ball ornaments I brought to Haiti brought back the fondest memories.
My grandmother has made stockings and tree skirts for my family as long as I can remember. She embroiders all the sequins and stitching on them, and personalizes each one with a name. Right now there are four generations in my family who all have stockings and tree skirts made by her.
The disco balls are great because they remind me of our Haitian Christmas tree: a dead tree, painted white, cemented into a paint can. I’m confident that Charity is decorating hers as I write. Anyway, the disco balls have lasted from that sad little Charlie Brown tree all the way to my grown up, already lit tree. Yea for them!