All of that was supposed to end this year: I left the high-powered job, bought a house in Seattle, and now have enough square footage and lofty ceilings to accommodate a whole forest! Oh, but no: Those ceilings are in the midst of being painted and all that square footage is draped in plastic and painter’s tape. No room in the inn for a Christmas tree.
Or so I thought! My dear parents heard the news and, as any good parents would do upon seeing their child about to make a terrible life decision, they intervened — no son of theirs was going to spend Christmas without a tree!
So they sent me a little potted European cypress tree with a string of lights, some snowflakes and a handful of felt angels.
It’s perfectly adorable and I love it. The lights and colors and piny scent bring a touch of holiday cheer that I hadn’t quite realized was missing from my home. When I look at it I think of why we celebrate this season: Because we’re all loved children of parents who care enough to send us gifts (a tiny tree sent by earthly parents; a baby in a manger sent by heavenly ones) that they know will lift us up and help us be happy.