"The Christmas Tree's sagging," Sarah says."So," I reply as she beautifully walks down the stairs leaving me lustful ...and full of sinful thoughts ... on her way to work.
I love Christmas Trees!
I don't care if they sag.
I don't care if they're brown.
Once in St. Martin, my friend Verna took to the store because I didn't have a car ... it was Christmas Eve and I needed groceries ... and the island was decorated ... with brown Christmas Trees bleached out in the sun ... fully decorated with bright ornaments.
Verna belted Christmas carols the entire trip with the windows rolled down and my bare feet on the dashboard.
"I'm dreaming of a brown Christmas," I sing.
Laughing, she says, "You're so white."
I love that image.
Anyway, Sarah leaves and I sit on the bench and stare at our Christmas Tree.
I think it should remain until Winter is over.
I hate Winter!
I didn't say that with enough passion.
I. HATE. WINTER. !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I hate snow ... cold wind ... Nor'easters ... scraping windshields ... multiple blankets ... ice (well ... except in a sweating glass) ... cranking the car to heat it before driving ... coats ... long pants and shoes!
I hate snow Angels.
But I love our Christmas Tree.
I'd leave it up till March if Sarah would let me ... which she won't ... but ... it's warm and nice ... the decorations are wonderful reflections of everything we've been through to get to us ... and ... Goddess likes sleeping under it.
Most Ornaments are homemade by my kids ... her girls ... things she made as a child ... or I made as a child ... my Grandfather's tie ... her parent's ornament.
The presents are long gone ... our children and friends ripped them open a couple of weeks ago.
The only thing left under our Christmas Tree is love.
And I'm basking it in right now.
It's our life and I wouldn't trade it for anything.
