Changing Seasons

I keep thinking about seasons. Seasons of our lives. And it is so clear to me that I am in a new season. 

Let me tell you about Christmas tree shopping. 

When I was young, I remember Christmas tree shopping with my family. I don’t know what their memories are, but I remember loving choosing a Christmas tree. 

So when I got married, it became a big deal for me. In the early days I would drag my husband and then young children from Christmas tree lot to Christmas tree lot. Usually on one of the coldest days of the year. I wanted to see every single tree. To make sure I was finding the best. We would go back to shops we had already been to to look again. 

Well in my little family… I was the only one who liked that. So eventually we reached a compromise. We chose a lot that we always liked. And every year we went there. And I would choose, with “help“ from my family, the best tree for our house. 

Over the years I have had to hold my ground to keep my real tree. I like things that are real. I don’t like things that are “fake.“ A long list of examples I could share. But I was putting my foot down on the tree. Have for years. But we just got new wood floors. And so I have been convinced, by the potential for water damage, to shop for an artificial tree.

And so today I am shopping. Please note the pronoun. My younger son is at one mall with his best friend. My older son is at the other mall, playing games in the arcade, with one of his best friends. My husband has driven to a different town to play pinball in an arcade he loves.

And so this year, I am choosing our Christmas tree. Without family. Without cold weather. Without hot chocolate. Without sticky sap or the smell of pine.

I think I’m OK, but seasons are surely changing.

And since I am alone, I am back to my old ways. I am on my fifth store. I am going to find us the perfect artificial Christmas tree.