Andy has always handled the erection… of our Christmas tree.
That includes selecting it, putting it up, trimming it, and keeping it watered through Little Christmas (and often beyond). It brings him more joy than it would me, which is strange since that used to be one of my favorite things. Life changes us, so much so that I now view the whole Christmas tree process as a bit of drudgery, and if it weren’t for Andy I doubt I’d even bother.
That said, I’ll still succumb to the magic of being in a room with only the glow of the tree in front of me, and embrace the magnificent scent of balsam first thing in the morning, the way I used to do as a kid. For that, I’m grateful that Andy still makes the effort, and if I have any Christmas spirit this year it’s largely due to him.
Right now, as of the very moment of this writing, he has finished with the lights and the angel, and is about to embark on the ornaments. There is a simplicity to its look now that I admire, but I also anticipate the arrival of the decorations, and with them the memories we have made over the past twenty-four years.
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