O, Christmas Tree
I love sitting here in the evening, in my
comfy chair, looking at the Christmas tree lit with tiny lights, packed full of
ornaments from long ago that my son and daughter made when they were little:
ceramic ice skaters they painted, an ice cream cone with cotton ice cream, a
dough art wise man, a Star of David made of popsicle sticks. Ornaments from the
trips I’ve been on: Santa and his wife in swim suits from the Virgin Islands, a
bagpiper from Scotland, a whale from Friday Harbor, Washington, a moose from Victoria,
Canada, Santa riding a polar bear from Alaska, kissing puffins from Bar Harbor
Maine. Ornaments from family and friends: a snowman, a Lion King mask, a poinsettia
made of crawdad claws, a ceramic dolphin. A purple Grand Canyon University
ornament I got when I finally graduated from college at the age of 59. Fragile
antique ornaments: a little angel encased in plastic, a glass ornament with a
crown, a glass mama and baby bear bell. O Christmas tree, how lovely are your
branches.
Twenty-five years old
Losing needles every year
Holding memories
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