Do you know what's odd to me? Perfectly matched Christmas trees are odd to me. You know what I'm talking about, right? Christmas trees with a "theme"? Where all the ornaments are red and gold glass balls, or white and silver bows? I mean, there's nothing wrong with trees like that, and I certainly understand the aesthetic appeal (they are quite visually striking) but they're just... odd, to me.
See, my idea of a Christmas tree is a hopeless jumble of mismatched ornaments. But every single one of them (or set of them) has a story behind it (or them). That was always the whole fun of decorating the tree- taking out little bits of our family history, one by one, to exclaim over the memories it evoked. And, of course, making certain the most special ornaments got the most favored positions (and those belonging to the little brother were relegated to the back... wait, did I say that out loud?).
For a long time I always assumed that when I left the house I would, of course, take "my" ornaments with me. But do you know what? I didn't. Because I decided they belonged on my mom's tree. And now my little tree (less than two feet tall, thank you very much) is bowed over with ornaments from my post-collegiate life. And each and every one of them tells a new story.
This one, for instance, was given to me by my mother because no matter how old I get I am still her little girl who loves unicorns... especially winged unicorns...
(Jingle Horse)
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