I finally found the energy to consider Christmas. I am one who prepares well ahead of time. I like to write letters and most years I would have already mailed all my cards and epistles to family and friends. My decorations are usually completed by the last week of November. Something went awry this year.
My youngest loved Christmas as well. Many times, while he was still at home, I breezed in from work and it had happened. Christmas had arrived at the Hoey household. Boxes appeared higgledy-piggledy like a child’s building blocks in my living room. Often the tree magically assembled itself but usually the actual task of decorating awaited, a job best shared.
When I first realized that I was on my own with the project, I decided to bring my mom over to the house. We listened to Christmas carols, drank hot chocolate and chatted. I gave her the box of little hooks to untangle. Mom patiently removed one after the other. The box now in use once held a large “Leaning Tree” mug, with two Dalmatian puppies. The motto read “look for the happy spots in each day.” The mug is long gone but the wisdom still holds true.
Each year as I wrestle the Christmas boxes from the basement locker, I wish I was still able to enlist mom’s help. This year I just realized that my tree box has a date stamp inside. June 2000. The purchase was from the Sears Christmas catalogue, long a favourite at our house. The tree is easy to assemble and fairly full and lush. We used to fight with the strings of lights but gave up on that practice long ago.
As I unwrap the ornaments, I tell myself the story of each one, just as I did with the kids and later with mom. Several came from my mother-in-law’s collection, a few were handmade, a few painted metals. One of my favourites is a replica of a child’s spinning top.
Mom used to purchase ornaments for her grandkids. We have a wooden rocking horse and a brightly painted toy soldier. Many I received from family and friends. Without mom’s help I unwrapped for a while, then untangled a few more hooks, laying them aside carefully. I miss my decorator’s apprentice.
I chose a nice sunny Saturday morning, erected the tree, then began the unwrapping. At the house we had long enjoyed a blue and silver theme. Larry helped the few times he was home. He placed each object with precision, well spaced, well balanced.
I began with enthusiasm but soon lost steam. Very suddenly I was done. I put the boxes away and vacuumed up the debris. Now I stand back and move one then another bauble. The ones in the front are a little crowded, others are a little sparse. While I rearrange, I keep looking, for the happy spots. They are everywhere.
Joyce Hoey is a longtime Mountain View Albertan columnist.
