Old man winter has raised his hoary little head, at least that’s what I’m told. It seems everyone who drops by starts off the conversation by saying how cold it is. I, dressed in socks, slippers, flannels and a sweatshirt, try my best to look sympathetic. I admit, though, when I look outside, I swear I can see the cold.
The banging has stopped. The house is all shingled. Yesterday Rosana and Lee, my cleaning people and my friends, came to put the house to rights. I had asked them to give me more time, and they were wonderful. Thanksgiving is finally gone, packed away until next year. Everything is back on the walls. The dirt from the shinglers’ boots is gone, and my kitchen sparkles. So do I.
The pain doesn’t make me scream anymore. Now I just ahh, ouch, moan and occasionally drop an expletive. I know a day of activity, such as yesterday, will make the next day a difficult one. That’s today, but I’m careful and following the half hour rule. With fingers wishfully crossed I’m hoping that I’m making progress. I figure not scaring the birds from the trees is a good sign.
Everyone always had live trees when I was a kid. The only artificial trees back then were the ones I saw in magazines. They had widely spaced white tinsel branches and a round disc of colored lights rotated in front to give the trees the colors they lacked. I think they were supposed to be avant-garde, and a black cocktail dress with a pouffy bottom half was part of the dress code if you wanted to sit near the tree. All of us, my friends, my sisters and I, still prefer live trees. The house needs to smell of fir. The lights and decorations on the tree glow and shine and seem to warm the winter nights.
My parents often couldn’t agreed on a tree. My dad preferred a cheaper tree which always had gaps between the branches. My mother wanted the perfect tree. When I was little, it didn’t matter to me. I just wanted the tree. Besides, we always found something to fill the gaps. I remember we had a cardboard Santa drinking a coke, and it always hung down and hid a good portion of the gap.
A friend told me no tree should be more than $15.00, and he knew how to solve the gap problem. He’d cut off most of the back branches, drill holes in the front part of the trunk and then he’d put the back branches in the front holes. The tree went in a corner. It always looked full and beautiful.
My trees never have gaps, and they are as tall as my room. My mother taught me that.
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