Today is the day we are going to get our tree.
Every year we drive to tree lots all over town to pick the biggest, most fragrant tree. Every year that perfect tree costs somewhere upwards of $80. So then we go to the grocery store, and buy a $35 tree.
This year? I'm just going to buy it when I get my groceries. While I am there, I am sure to leaf through several home magazines. I will linger wistfully on the perfectly festooned trees in their pages. There will be an "all-white" tree, a gold themed tree, and maybe even an Indian themed tree. India is very "in" this year, in case you haven't noticed. (For the record, I was into India wayyyyy before it got cool. Because Kal Pen is dreamy. He's not actually from India, but his parents are, I think. Anyway -- Sigh.)
I will dream of the day when my home is decorated perfectly for Christmas. Elegantly dressed family and friends will come from near and far to enjoy home made goodies and hot chocolate. We will laugh loudly at witty banter, showing our perfect teeth.
Last year, my friend Kathy made me a very pretty monogrammed ornament. It would have gone perfectly on my fragrant, monochromatic tree of the future. It was broken within 3 minutes of getting on the tree.
Until that Christmas, I will wax sentimental when we pull our shabby ornaments out of storage and place them on the grocery store tree. I have ornaments from my own childhood, ornaments my kids made, ornaments I bought when we lived in other states, ornaments from friends. (Except for Kathy, of course.) For some reason, I have a lot of western themed Santas. I like 'em. I used to have a beautiful adobe church ornament. It got broken when our fake tree fell on my then 3 year old. Damn fake tree.
And in 2020-something, when my boys are strapping young men, my home is perfect and we all wear sweaters despite the South Texas heat, I will miss my shabby tree.