My memories of Christmas are definitely seen through rose colored glasses. Dad would drag out the big box the artificial tree was stored in....reinforced by many layers (and years) of masking tape, and the big ornament box...equally strengthened by yellowed and peeling layers of tape. Dad's job was to assemble the tree (with Mom's assistance) and put the lights on. Then my brother, mother and myself would put up all the ornaments on the tree. We'd ooh and ahh over each one as it revealed itself from nests of old newspaper and some still in their original boxes. Each had a story, some were sentimental and brought back past neighbors and friends, some were clumsy handmade school projects that we were both embarrassed and proud of at the same time. And some just brought back memories of Christmas past.....trekking thru shoppers at after Christmas sales, gifts from exchanges at work and school, simply more of the mortar that creates and binds families.
I struggle to reconcile these childhood memories with the more laid-back attitudes of my present day husband and son. I was determined to instill that same love affair with the decorating of The Tree in my son, and create a perfect evening. So the first year that my son was old enough to understand what was going on I turned off the t.v., turned on the CD player with Christmas music and proceeded to begin the tradition. Within 20 minutes my son was done decorating, my husband had turned on the TV (granted the sound was muted) and I was the only one hanging ornaments on the tree. Granted the boy child was only 4, but the husband was 48! Each year my son would help a little bit longer, but it was NEVER the event to him that it had been to me...it was more a kindly yet grudging "lets get this over with for Mom" kind of attitude. Don't misunderstand, they are happy to see the tree go up, and my husband is very helpful at locating all the ornament and decoration boxes (now stored in more modern plastic totes instead of cardboard boxes), but I just don't think they get the same emotional tug that I experienced as a child. So I have to wonder...WERE those past childhood Christmas tree deckings really that much of an event as I remember? Or is that just history rewriting those special days.
So anyway, as I sit here looking at my pretty Christmas Tree, I remember those Christmas's past and smile, because even the Christmas's that aren't 'picture perfect' are still there, still mortar, still gluing my family together. And maybe someday my son will be remembering these Christmas's through his own rose colored glasses, thinking how perfect and wonderful they were, and hoping to share that same experience with his family. I hope so.
