I decided to let my grandmother and her personal assistant get the Christmas tree this year because I have been silently resenting that the task has always fallen to me in previous years. When I didn't jump to the task of decorating it, my mother stepped in and I let her--but to my dismay!! The tree looked like a sloppy child whose sweater was too long and whose pants were too short. The lights weren't even and the tree didn't even have its traditional top ornament! When I decorate the tree, it looks like a drag queen!! My mother would usually finish it off--putting the second set of fake eyelashes on and an extra coat of lip gloss. I used to use every ornament--and my grandmother's ornaments go back to the 1940's! I consider it a sacrosanct thing to place things where they belong: the angels at the top, then the birds, then the fruit, then the baby Jesuses. For one minute I was impressed that the tree was done so quickly and that it didn't look festive and gay. But the next minute I was consumed by a desire to get all the ornaments back out and decorate it "properly!" I have told myself that I let this happen because I wanted to make the statement that Christmas could happen without my tree magic and finesse. But can it? Can a drab tree still greet Christmas? I think I may have to be an elf tomorrow morning or late tonight and decorate the tree my orthodox way. [Soto voice: there is only one right way to do things: the right way: my way!]
When I was a child, I decorated the tree because I wanted to so badly--because it was fun and sparked my imagination. Now the branches of the tree and the ornaments are filled with Christmases past and the tree came to represent how I felt the ritual was empty.
My grandmother insists that we do not rip the wrapping paper so it can be saved and used again. Today my mother shrieked in horror when she thought that someone was giving a "politically incorrect" gift and shrieking again in delight when she found out that she was mistaken. And nobody paid attention. She will stress out when I take an alternate route to the freeway and alert me that there is a red light or a green light. She rushed to get a noise in the car looked at the morning after I arrived so that I could have total use of the car and was keeping me updated on its state even though I could simply have used my grandmother's. She is so kind, but sometimes when I don't even need her to be. I feel like she wants to make sure that I don't even have to figure out my transportation on my own. That I can simply accept her generosity.
I want the Christmas tree to look beautiful. But I don't live here anymore. I haven't been living here for a long time. Is decorating the tree in my orthodox way really worth my time? I have been separating myself from this space so much on this trip: trying to refrain from rearranging my old room, taking only a few old things of mine. I have refrained from making marvelous plans from the part of the garden that used to be mine. I have turned the lights off on all the redecorating fantasies that I usually have about my grandmother's house. It's weird, it's like I'm ejecting myself from this space as I stay here. I shouldn't worry about making it beautiful because that is a full-time job for several people. Seriously, the upkeep of the house and grounds needs a staff of about five. I exaggerate not. And here I am, wanting to beautify and make some small corner of it livable and I know that I don't actually live here. But I'm here now.
