It came to the attention of the office this week that I don’t have a Christmas tree.
It’s true — in the metric ton of my belongings that were transferred here from Georgia, there were a number of boxes of Christmas ornaments but not a tree amongst them. Those who helped unload my moving truck may have trouble believing I did actually leave some things behind.
The tree was one of those things. I guess I figured I’d get another one at some point, even though I can never get the fake ones to “fluff” to my liking.
About a year and a half ago, I actually had two trees. Those who know my true feelings about Christmas ought to find that hysterical. I sold one at a yard sale when I moved from one side of town to the other and kept the other one — safe in its box, even throughout the holiday season.
For the last year I was in Georgia, I rented a house from a woman. She was the local literacy advocate so it was kind of nice living somewhere where no one gave me any grief about all my books. Part of our arrangement was she used a couple rooms to store her stuff and could come and go as she liked.
“When are you going to put up your tree?” she asked me about this time last year as she arrived to collect some of her own decorations. I just gave her a nervous smile.
A few days after that, I had jury duty for the first time and my service lasted all week. Rushing home one day to grab lunch and get back in time before the sheriff came to collect me, I opened the door to a surprise.
In the corner of the living room was a tree at least 4 feet tall, lit, complete with a tree skirt and a box of ornaments waiting on the counter. Hanging in the middle of the tree was a dog toy, a gift for Millie. The tree lights even had one of those switches on the floor you could step on so you didn’t have to lean over and hunt in the tree to turn it on.
Where she came up with an “extra” tree I have no idea. I’d told her I had one, but she was like that.
I already had plenty of ornaments, too, and they did make the trip to North Carolina. In 2005, my mom sold our family home and had an auction of “everything else” she wouldn’t need in her new place. It sounds extreme, but we had an antique shop in our house when I was growing up. She had a lot of stuff.
By the time she got to the garage, I guess mom had lost her spunk when it came to making sure the right things got saved. When I arrived home the night before the sale, the giant steamer trunk that held our family ornaments was sitting out there, still full. Luckily, I thought to check it.
The ornaments, many of which my mother made with her own hands (or survived many a Black Friday to buy, a feat in its own right), were rescued by me and brought home to Georgia and I did decorate a tree that first year. I don’t think the ornaments have been out since but I’m happy they’re still in the family.
Maybe I’ll break down and get them out again this year. Anyone have a tree I can borrow?
Jennifer Shrader is the managing editor of The Free Press; her column appears in this space every Friday. You can reach her at 252-559-1079 or at Jennifer.Shrader@Kinston.com. Follow her on Twitter at jenjshrader.