I knew I consolidated (purged, donated, got rid of) some of my holiday decorations before I moved to Memphis. It wasn’t until the tree was up and I had searched through all of my unpacked possessions (three or four times) that I realized how much I had consolidated. I no longer had a star or half of the ornaments I used to own, and I only had one strand of lights. Perhaps I got rid of too much?
Sunday morning I went and bought a tree at Home Depot. I’d rather go to a local place (tree farm, charity), but Home Depot was close and I didn’t want to drive far with a tree hanging out the trunk of my little Corolla. For many many years I drove to either Home Depot, a local garden center, or the local VFW to get a tree. It was always cold and my hands were usually numb by the time I had the trunk tied down. More often than not my wife went with – we’d pick out the tree together and she would pick out a wreath for the door. We’d ask to keep the clippings or sometimes buy some pine garland for the fireplace mantle. The tree always went in the middle of the picture window and we always spent a night listening to Christmas music (the playlist had to begin with Angela Lansbury’s version of “We Need a Little Christmas”) and decorating the tree.
At around this time last year I wrote about my holiday traditions, about how the season felt really different, about how the holiday would be a difficult one. As I started to write about it tonight – I went back to re-read that post…. eh. I say that in a good way, or at least a mixed way. The old photos don’t have the same pull that they did a year ago. Last year was a very different Christmas. When I got divorced, I made a very intentional decision to put up a tree and do the whole Christmas thing, to carry on – even if it was just for me – precisely because it was just for me. Then when I had met someone who I thought would be the person I’d spend the rest of my holidays with – there was an entirely new spark and everything, especially the holiday, felt magical. Last year, I was acutely aware of what was missing. I was licking my wounds and going through the motions. I was in a new city and for the first time in my life I would be the visitor, coming home. I didn’t decorate my apartment because I wouldn’t be there and I wasn’t in the mood. I flew home and spent a few days (3 or 4) in the Philly area and then went back to Memphis… and just like that the holiday was over and pretty easily forgotten.
This year feels a lot more like that first solo Christmas. I put on music (not Christmas music), put on my santa hat, hung the stockings, and kept things simple. I’m doing it mostly for me. That’s been a recurring theme for me this past year and a half…. not just a search for normalcy and meaning, but an attempt to get back to who I was before. Or something like that. It’s a weird thing when you give all of yourself to someone. It’s not quite like you changed for them or lost yourself in them, but when it doesn’t work, you are stuck trying to figure out who you were before… what was yours, what was theirs, what gets left behind and what gets carried forward. You untangle and reassemble. This year I bought a couple strands of lights, but not much else – I haven’t found a star that I like, and I don’t think they make the type of fake candles I was used to (plug in ones). I’m ok with carrying fewer things forward and with adding others back little by little. There are those first Christmases that are commemorated with an ornament, but there are also those first Christmases for which no ornament exists or is necessary – and sometimes, they are just as important.