There is nothing like a denuded Christmas tree lying on its side in the snow, waiting for the trash men to whisk it to dead tree Heaven, having served us all so well when we needed it. 
In its short life with humans, it gave both beauty and pleasure as well as delightful aroma, bringing the forest into our living room. Now the Nutcrackers have all been put away with the rest of the decorations around the house...the candles in the windows...and everything else that spelled Christmas, to be rediscovered next year. For me, the beauty of the season did not lie in any religious tales (though I love the carols) nor in the commercialism; not in the material goods passed around family and friends. For me, unlike the sadness of Scrooge's Christmases past, it is a memory of what once was fun but will be no more. It is the memory of eager young children, still believing in Santa Claus and waiting to be gifted, with anxious little faces waiting to be surprised, and smiling at the miracle of the season.
No comments:
Post a Comment