christmas journal #3

There's something about the Christmas tree. The tree, for my family, is probably the most important tradition. We have a fake tree. We love our fake tree. It's big and green and it doesn't smell bad like real trees do. And it has some awesome strategically placed pine cones. The golden lights are attached to it, because my family is simply too low-maintenance for stringing lights onto trees.

Every year, we pull out the ornaments and put them on the tree. This is my favorite part of the holiday season, the ornaments. There's no special order; just wherever we think the ornament fits. It usually ends up being an overly crammed, spastic looking tree. It literally comes out different every year.

Excuse me for being obnoxiously cliche, but it really reflects the year, that tree. Every year it's like it says something different about us, as a family. I know, I know. It's a plastic tree. It doesn't talk. But seriously, it's almost like every year, it says where we are at that point. This year, it was filled, crammed, busy. As we were. It still looked kind of sad. Like we were. But the golden lights brought everything back together. A glint of hope. We have that. Okay, I'm done with the tree/family analogy now. It's stupid. But really, really, freakishly true.