I finally got the Christmas tree up this afternoon, a process I find makes me a bit melancholy, because it fills me with memories.
Memories of the youngest junior shepherd on his Daddys shoulders putting the star on at the very end of decorating. Now that same shepherd takes the tree out of the car, saws the bottom branches off for me so it will fit in the holder, grunts and disappears and that is the extent of his tree involvement.
Memories of all the times all four of them brought home beautiful pottery decorations, (thank you Aunty Rita) which they’d had painted with their tiny hands.
Now I’m hanging those decorations, with no tiny hands helping and no squealing, no giggling and fighting, and I’m trying to remember who painted what and in which year.
But how lucky am I to have all these memories, and have a warm house to put a tree in, and have a family Whats App group to post my creation from this afternoon, and wait for the wise cracks. Hope you have or you are creating memories. xx
