When one begins to get a few years under their belt and around the midriff, special occasions call forth a flood of memories. Christmas seems to have its own filing cabinet for recollections ranging from favorite toys to most memorable disaster, best family cook to “yes, I’ll go, but I’m not sitting next to … (fill in the blank of the relative you most would like to avoid)”.
One of my traditions acquired as a grown-up (whether I’m an “adult” depends on with whom one is speaking) has been that of purchasing commemorative Christmas ornaments from special vacations, that represent an interest or special characteristic of mine or someone in my household, or that I just like on its own merit. Regardless, there are always new ornaments to grace our trees. You notice that “trees” is plural; we have three decorated trees this year.
Decorating the tree has become my task each Christmas — probably because I’m so very anal about where everything needs to go, not having visible wires, and determining the tree “themes” each year.