There's a crummy cell phone picture of him. Maybe I will take away Mossy the Moose and the little nativity. But the tiny silver tree is dreamy and makes an excellent nightlight.
Of course, my seven year old self would have scoffed at this idea. I had such a pure, delicious vision of what Christmas was. First of December, my box of decorations came down from the attic and I spent hours smothering a tiny green artificial tree in lights, ornaments, and strings of popcorn and pearly beads.
That tree went up in my room every year until my first year of college, when it mysteriously disappeared. I suspect water damage caused my parents to throw the box out, but they didn't have the heart to tell me. I mean, a two foot tall artificial tree can't just get up and walk away by itself, dragging a cardboard box full of ornaments behind it, right?
My tree, in particular, even lost a plastic foot somewhere along the way, down from four to three. It fell over at least once a year, causing me to invest in primarily unbreakable ornaments. The tree sat beside a glitter-covered plastic nativity set and a train of some sort.
Those decorations represented all that was Christmas in my small world. The season began December first and ended at the end of Christmas day, causing the 25th to be the closest thing to bittersweet I've ever experienced, even now.
I used to leave the little tree up in my room until January first, then it was back to the attic for another eleven months. It was just my way of doing things. In the back of my mind, I had the feeling that the anticipation of Christmas was most of the fun, and I didn't want to overdo it and risk making the season less magical.
Has Christmas lost all its wonder? Am I succumbing to the end of the magic by leaving this little tree up for a few more weeks, months? What if I leave it up until the end of the year?
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