Christmas Tree

Foxy and installed our first Big Girls’ Christmas tree this weekend. Since I haven’t plundered my parents ornament collections, the tree is all her. We’ll adjust that next year. We may need a bigger tree.

The compromises inherent in adapting each of our childhood rituals into one family holday thing was interesting. We drank champagne and ate cheese and crackers with my mom and her boyfriend; we untangled lights. My white string of lights went next to the truck to twinkle from between the branches, while her colored lights went on the ends of the branches. That one I don’t really get, but she let me have my way with the other strand, so …

We bought a wreath at the Enka High craft fair, presents and glass baubles, managed to find her ornaments in the sea of boxes that is the basement.

It feels nice. It feels like family. I mean, the kitchen is still devastated from the chili/hot sauce/cornbread marathon of Friday, but at least in the living room we have what feels like tradition, something that the two of us made together that anchors our year. Until the cats rip it down.