I loved decorating for Christmas as a child, seeing my saved school projects and family possessions. The construction paper Santa glued to the coffee can with his cotton ball beard and eyebrows. A styrofoam snowman held together with toothpicks. The pinecone tree with red fuzzy balls, the white Christmas candle inside the fake greenery, and the glittery gold mini tree and angels belonging to my grandmother.
For a child who wanted the Norman Rockwell painted family, Christmas was as close to that as I would get, and with each passing year, those nostalgic decorations transported me to a time of peace in the house and goodwill between the parents.
Luckily, I married a man whose yearly tradition was buying a new set of ornaments. He was gracious in including me when we dated, despite my mocking of his artificial tree and insistence on a real one, especially after we married.
We now have a tree full of nostalgia, and even when I’m the lone decorator, I happily reminisce.
This year, Tom and Maddy joined me in putting together our Christmas tree. As they did in the past, the two of them strung the lights.
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