January 14th.. not to bad for taking my tree down right?
When my brother Jeff, was a Lothario in the ’80’s, and he was on the verge of breaking up with yet another girl he had been crazy about for two weeks previous, he famously said (paraphrasing), “Love is like a Christmas tree. It’s starts out smelling so good. It’s pretty, it makes you happy to see it sparkling, but then it dries out and becomes a fire hazard.”
That girlfriend was toast.
As I was undressing my tree I thought of the difference from the night we brought it home, the kids so excited to decorate it as I made hot coco, Frank Sinatra carols, the warmth of our home on on a cool evening. To this morning, harsh glare of Eastern light coming in the window, applying the anti aging wrinkle cream Santa brought me . I’m alone in my black sweats, covered in flocking.
I have to pry the ornaments of the tree because the tree is dying and has curled over the hooks. Parts of the tree come off and I pull the dead branches off the ornament so I can neatly put them away in my ornament storage ( took me 20 plus years to figure out the importance of that). “Get off of me you dead tree. I’m done.”
The promise of love, the promise of yuletide glow. It’s over. Unstringing the lights it felt like the morning after a one night stand. Heated, and exciting the night before, But now my lipstick has been kissed off, I’m tired, look bad and Romeo doesn’t look so hot now in the glare of the sun, and I’m just wondering, “Where is my bra?”
But, hope springs eternal.. we will hop in the sack again next year.