One of my favorite things to do at Christmas is to sit and stare at my tree. I have never been one to plan a theme for my tree. I prefer the mish-mosh of ornaments, each one telling a story. You can trace my childhood, adulthood, and parenthood. Pets that have come and gone. Plush dolls nestled within the branches, marking happier times before elves sat on shelves. Handmade, store bought, gifted, it's all on there.
I enjoy sitting on my couch sipping my coquito laced coffee, taking the annual trip down memory lane. Memories of hanging some of these ornaments on my childhood Christmas tree. Watching my mom fight with the lights, refusing to allow anyone to help since she's the only one who knows how to do it right. Listening to Perry Como sing the traditional songs, in the era of vinyl records. Creeping quietly past my father who falls asleep near the Christmas tree as standing guard, separating my brother and me from the toys Santa had ceremoniously placed under the tree. One wrong move and Dad would wake up, causing us to scamper back to our room, forced to wait until the proper hour, usually 5 AM, to rush out and open everything up. However, Mom did not appreciate that and would shoo us back to bed.
Christmas is different now. I have children of my own and receive handmade ornaments from my boys. The days of stringing lights are gone with the invention of the pre-lit tree. Vinyl is now a thing of the past and Alexa now belts out the holiday tunes. All the delicate and glass ornaments are packed away from little hands and shatterproof adornments are the decorations of choice. Years have passed, but the magic of Christmas remains the same for me as it was when I was a child. The only difference now is the magic of Christmas is being seen through adult eyes.
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