My Tree is Fake

I honestly cannot remember any of the gifts I received as a child. Sure, there are pictures of a play kitchen from the 80's and gap-toothed photos of me holding random Barbie dolls, but those aren't what I think of when I remember Christmas. I remember the tree, the ornaments that we put up every single year, most of them made by my sister or myself. I think of stringing popcorn and baking peanut butter cookies (with the checkerboard pattern on top). I remember receiving a chocolate advent calendar every year. We watched Rudolf the Red Nosed Reindeer as a family and sang Frosty the Snowman by the light of the tree. How the Grinch Stole Christmas, candy cane reindeer and a white wreath made out of sandwich bags... That's Christmas.

As I was pulling out our Christmas balls from Target and the the Dollar Store, I felt a little sad. There isn't a pipe cleaner candy cane anywhere to be found. No angels made from seashells or a mason jar lid covered in glitter and ribbon. It's just cheap, plastic balls, there's no memories to add or an ancient angel to put on top. And it's pink, for fuck's sake.

I'm looking forward to the day when I can look at our tree and see our family in it. I wonder what my parent's tree looked like before Shawna was old enough to participate. Clearance bin Christmas balls and ribbon? I'll have to ask them some day.

*Actually, I do remember a toy. It was a small, plastic house. I only remember it because it took a few hours and two swear words to get the light to turn on.