So, I finally got my Christmas tree up — not quite as soon as I’d have liked, but sooner than it has been some years. It always seems like it’s going to be a formidable task, but it’s really not. The tree’s artificial and pre-lit, so the most complicated part of setting it up is dragging the storage box out of the shed where it sits wedged most of the year.

Hanging the ornaments, of course, takes a bit more time. I took a little extra care with that this year. It was a Sunday afternoon, and, for once, I wasn’t really pressed for time. Of course, I had Hallmark on in the background. First a nostalgic Christmas movie, followed by a brand new Hanukkah flick — which seems simultaneously odd and appropriate. 

This year, I wanted to make sure the ornaments were properly hung — dangling, not resting on the branches below. And I realized, as I took that extra moment or two with each one, that each has its own significance. 

Oh, I don’t remember the provenance of all of them — or even most of them, at this point. But I can look at each and recall roughly the time of my life when I made or received it. Whether it was my own childhood, young adulthood, motherhood, or of more recent vintage, there’s a special point in time — a precious moment — attached to each. And that’s a gift all on its own.