I have always loved Christmas. All of it. I love the season, the lights, the trees, the decorations, the warm feeling of Advent. I love it.
I have had a Christmas Tree, a real Christmas Tree every year of my life. I have collected ornaments since I was in high school, I have decorated, crafted, matched and mismatched, I have created wonderlands of Christmas in my house.
I have cooked big dinners, small groups for multiple evenings of dinners. As my friend named us the House of Big Meat, it is always a celebration.
If I had to choose one thing, one moment of Christmas and name it my favorite time, besides the dark church on Christmas Eve, it would be the dark house during the season when the tree is up and lit. I don't even need many ornaments up, I need to fix my coffee, go to the living room and just sit.
Those quiet moments of solitude before all the "other stuff' gets in the way. I love those times.
I love to go find the tree. Where will it come from? Will there be a different kind this year? Will it look wonderful? Will it have the right kind of branches? Will it be fresh and last the season? Will it be quirky? Will it smell wonderful?
It is for me. The tree is enjoyed by all but it is for me. So this year, I don't get a tree. We don't get a tree. I totally understand the fear of fungus is real and present and not to be trifled with in any way. I know it. I know I should be happy that we get to have a Christmas and are not in the hospital or worse. I know I should be grateful for all my blessings, I know, I know, I know, but it makes me sad. It is a sign that we are not "OUT OF THE WOODS" yet.
Okay, I will figure it out. I will make it good. I will rent a tree or make a tree or find a branch that needs a home. It will be fine.