Vancouver had its first snowfall of the season this morning, after minus four degree temperatures last night. With the feathery snowflakes falling outside and some heavenly jazz playing inside our cozy home, my son and I were trimming our Christmas tree, as we chatted away about our fondest memories of the season. Each tree ornament had a fond story behind it and brought back memories galore from the past. With just that touch of snow, life's perfect, I thought, with a white Christmas just around the corner, but I couldn't help but think at the same time of all the Christmases past. My childhood holiday season had been way too much simpler, with none of the glitter or the glamor, yet fun-filled and pleasurable in its own way.
As the youngest of four children, I always watched in awe as my older siblings worked their magic on the family Christmas tree. Those were the days when synthetic trees, pre-lit trees or fiber-optic tips were unheard of. In a hot, humid city as my hometown, pine trees or any conifers were unseen, and ingeniously enough, the closest we could think of to a Christmas tree were casuarina branches that grew aplenty in the region. It always fell upon my two brothers to fetch home a worthy tree branch that could pass off for a Christmas tree. My sister joined them in decorating the branches with festoons of crepe paper and cheap tinsel. The ornaments were Xmas greeting cards tied to the branches with a piece of string threaded through the holes on top. There were a mish mash of colored paper balls and cut-out figures of Santa, snowmen, etc. thrown in the mix. The tree was simple enough, but brought about a great deal of childish delight in me.
Living in North America these past 13 years, we've thrown ourselves headlong into the Christmas experience, complete with a seven foot synthetic Christmas tree and glittering ornaments that outshine one another amid the twinkling, colored lights. Santas, snowmen, angels, fairies, silver, white, gold and red birds, pink elephants, golden shoes, colored hearts and shiny balls vie with each other for a hanging space on the tree - a sight relished by one and all. Each year after Christmas, each ornament gets carefully wrapped in tissue paper and goes into a special ornament box, only to come out the following year before Christmas. No wonder then that I've had most of them for more than ten years now. My sister gave me many of these ornaments and my son and I fondly recall the time each one joined our collection.
The Christmas season is always one of celebration, mirth, remembrance, thanks and nostalgia, and the tree that lights up our house reinforces the gaiety and exuberance of it all. Just like I have evergreen reminiscences of my childhood holiday season, it is my hope that my son builds for himself his own memories of Christmas in the coming years, and always looks back upon them with fondness and nostalgia.
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