In the corner stands our Christmas tree in its manicured, if miniature, majesty. I can practically look the angel tree topper in the eye. This tree tapers to a perfect point as if shaped in a giant pencil sharpener. All the ornaments match, unlike the early years of handmade ornaments made of popsicle sticks or gold painted macaroni, or all the mismatched ornaments I collected for my children at craft shows and dollar stores through the years. Rather than reflecting the beauty of the tree, those cheap ornaments reflected my children's interests at the time--cats, fishing, music etc. I bought those ornaments with the idea that they would hang them on their own trees when they left home. The youngest is 27. So far, no takers. I managed to drown out the memories of eggnog, Christmas carols and our children bickering as they fought over spindly branches to decorate, by streaming a Jim Gaffigan comedy video. I laughed until I cried--so I wouldn't cry.
This year's Christmas tree is well shaped, but it is not perfect. The perfect tree has mismatched ornaments clumped together on spindly branches, hung by the sticky fingers of arguing children. Angels should not be on top of the tree, they should be around it.
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