The granddaughters, Christmas Past
The election is over, thankfully. Now, where should a Southern woman turn her attention? That’s a no brainer. The holidays are approaching. It’s time to decorate. (It’s also called being in denial.)
I have a good friend who is “sitting and ready.” She loves Christmas and wonders every year how soon she can decorate without people accusing her of forgetting Thanksgiving. I sympathize. I love Christmas, too. I confess to decorating before Thanksgiving and switching then to the Holiday music channels on Sirius XM.
How a Southern woman decorates her home for Christmas is critical. There has to be a theme and coordination. The colors have to blend with the home decor. The wrapping paper for the presents under the tree has to match the decor. I put up two trees. One is a family tree with family ornaments- things the children made, gift ornaments, collection ornaments from the girls’ performances in the Nutcracker. The other tree in the living room is the decor tree- Mardi Gras colors, jewel colors, crystal ornaments. I love the scene from the Southern Women Channel where one of the women says, “I am putting up only six Christmas trees this year.” Two is all I can manage.
The cat and I developed a difficult relationship at Christmas. When he was young, he tried to climb the tree and knock it over. I had to wire it to a nail in the ceiling. Now that he is older, he sneaks around and tries to (and sometimes successfully) to target breakable ornaments and knock them off the tree. I lose about two or three every year.
As a child, I used to love to rest under the lighted Christmas tree at night and listen to Christmas music. I still find myself enjoying a quiet evening with Christmas lights and Christmas music. This experience reminds me of the importance of tradition in our lives. Those positive childhood memories transfer. Sometimes the sad ones sneak in. I remember Daddy’s last Christmas when he had been diagnosed with lung cancer the October before. I remember his entering the living room on Christmas morning carrying his oxygen. That memory is forever etched in my brain.
But each year my heart leaps as Christmas approaches and the positive, hopeful person in me waits in great anticipation.