If you click on my ‘About‘ page, you’ll see that my favorite music consists of piano jazz and Christmas music (better if combined!); which means, I enjoy listening to Christmas music in the summer — heck, all year long. It also means I love Christmas. This may be because it’s the one celebration, other than Easter, that my family and I truly celebrated with joy.
The truth is, my family never purchased a real Christmas tree. I’m not sure why, but instead, we owned a faux alternative. I remember buying the plastic tree. Fort Worth, Texas, 1993 or 1994, Christmas Eve. A desolate Macy’s due to a bad economy (the beginning of it), or maybe because nobody bought/buys Christmas trees on Christmas Eve. I remember a dark parking lot, so it must have been in the evening. My siblings and I ran through the home decoration section, which seemed to us like the equivalent of Disneyland in our Texan lives. Trees decorated with glittery ornaments, pink and purple lights, colorful feathers, twinkling stars, I don’t really remember the specifics. My dad asked us to pick ornaments and there were millions from which to choose. I didn’t want our tree to look haphazard or kitschy with random themes conglomorated into one. I stopped my siblings and looked over at a pretty tree on display. I convinced them that the pretty tree should be our tree, so we bought the same lights and ornaments as the pretty tree, and that’s how we ended up with a mini Macy’s tree in our living room for the next ten years. *Note: The mini tree safely rests in my storage space.
Early this fall, I asked my husband if we could have a Christmas tree. A real one. “No,” he said, “Our place is way too small. It won’t be able to fit.” My world came crumbling down, but I knew I had some time (maybe 3 months) to convince him.
September, October, and November had passed, and Christmas tree farms were being built left and right. “Christmas Tree Wonderland,” “Delancey Christmas Tree Farm,” trees everywhere and not one in my home. Husband, for some reason, dug up a small one hidden in one of my boxes and I set it on our living room coffee table.
Friday, December 2nd. Husband had the day off after a morning exam, so he ran errands until I came back from work. When I returned, he said he had a surprise for me but he would give it to me later. A surprise??? Hmmm. (I have to admit, I was a little suspicious/skeptical because he hasn’t been what I would consider an expert at surprises. hehehe. ;) j/k, Love!) As we do on most Fridays, we were planning on eating out for dinner, and for some reason, he ran to the car trying to hide a sleeping bag, while I suspiciously watched from the passenger seat. He said he would have to give the present at the very end of the evening. Hmmmm….
After dinner, I suggested we buy Christmas decorations for our home, i.e., candles and maybe a wreath. He agreed and I was telling him the directions to Michael’s. “Go straight and make a right,” I said. But he made a right and went straight, and continued to go the wrong way while I was frantically telling him to go back. He kept on saying, “What? Isn’t Michael’s this way?” while continuing to drive in the wrong direction. “No, it was right there! We passed it, you need to go back,” I kept insisting. A red light was up ahead, and suddenly he turned into the block, leading us into a Christmas tree farm, and I finally realized his surprise. He wanted to buy me a Christmas tree! You can imagine my excitement; I kept punching him until I ran out into the Christmas tree farm. It was 1993 again, but this time in a real farm with goats and sheep.
We bought decorations and lights, and to make a long story short, we set up our first Christmas tree, my first real Christmas tree, in our humble abode. Thank you, Love.