I admire perfectly designed trees, the ones with uniform ornaments and perfect bows. Their clean lines are something to inspire envy. They speak of elegance and Christmas joy.
But I think I could never choose to have one in my home. Our Christmas tree tradition leads to conversation, each ornament on the tree telling a story of its own. The children each have special pieces they choose and hang on the tree. We talk about where the ornaments came from, or what they mean. It’s a long process, but well-worth the walk down memory lane. The memories may make my tree look less uniform, but if you step back, you can see it as the lifeline of a family.
Each ornament on my Christmas tree is a memory. One tells of the childcare center I worked in, and a teacher who was my Secret Santa. Another is a gift when I was pregnant with my first child. The lighthouse that belonged to my mother-in-law has a reserved space on the tree, so we can point it out every year and keep her memory alive.
My brother gave me the one of the bride and groom. It was my first Christmas as a married woman. The glass castle was from my mom, a call-back to my wedding day. I’ve kept every ornament I’ve ever received, and each one has become part of my yearly Christmas tree tradition.
I learned this from my mother, who has fifty year old bulbs on her tree—bulbs from my eldest brother’s first Christmas. A bulb that my father’s godmother gave my youngest brother, declaring, “He’s a king. The king can have whatever he wants.” Ornaments my mother made in ceramics class in the seventies. A baby food jar cover decorated in glitter with my brother’s picture in the middle, and the matching one his daughter made decades later. She tells me often that one day I will inherit the pieces, and recall all of our memories.
On Christmas Eve, we open one gift and admire the tree, listening to music and making more memories. One day, my children, too, will inherit the pieces of our memory tree.
What are your Christmas/holiday traditions?
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Photo: geralt on Pixabay
