I know I've blogged about this before. Or at least I think I have . . .
But whatever. One year when I was in grade school TRQ didn't get around to taking our tree down for weeks and weeks after Christmas. It was bad. All the needles fell out like hair off a missionary's head. The ornaments dropped from the limbs and rolled around on our carpet. And whenever I walked into the living room, I avoided eye contact with our tree because I felt so embarrassed for it.
Also, I felt embarrassed for our family. All the other mothers on our street had dispatched with their families' trees. What was wrong with us? Why was our tree languishing in the corner like the ghost of Christmas Past?
When I grew up I figured out that TRQ had probably been depressed that winter. The Coach was ALWAYS gone in those days, which led her (I assumed) to feel overwhelmed and a little isolated. The tree episode made more sense.
Or so I thought . . .
Maybe TRQ just liked having that tree up. This notion has just occurred to me because for the first time in my entire adult life I still have a fully decorated tree in the living room in January. And I don't see myself taking it down any time soon, frankly, because I still like the way it looks, and also I'm tired.
Here's to growing older and doing whatever we all damn well please.