After the holidays last year, my daughter asked that we leave our Christmas tree up all year long. She just couldn’t bear to let it go.
Her big idea was that we (read: I) would decorate it for each holiday that came around.
Given that the tree is fake — my husband simply can stand the smell of free greens and I gave up that battle long ago — there were few reasons to say no that didn’t seem to trash a young girl’s sense of fun and fantasy. Mommy being sick of holidays, Mommy being tired, Mommy not wanting more cheap junk — no wait, festive displays — to store, didn’t seem to quite cut it.
So we’ve done it. It sat there all year, and I don’t yet know how much it fed her heart to have it stay. The tree got decked out for Valentine’s and St. Patrick’s Day, its frosty lights oddly proclaimed a steamy Fourth of July. It was festooned in pink “It’s a Girl!” banners for my daughter’s 10th birthday. Then we (read: I) lost steam until a final last blast for Halloween, mainly because fake spider webs and spiders are easy.
And to my amazement — my jaw is always dropping these days at how fast time passes — we’ve come full circle. The tree’s year of celebrations is drawing to a close. Nope, we’re not doing this next year.
The other night we lit it in appreciation before jumping full tilt into Christmas decoration. It’s been one of those things that meant practically nothing to me, but I hope it was resonant for my girl. Only time will tell.