Counting
Today we have a Christmas tree. We brought it home this morning, tied to the roof of the Blue Whale. It is somewhat taller than Geoff. It is full and deep green, with the suggestion of blue on the undersides of the branches. It smells of piney Christmas and all the memories that live in fragrance. It conjures peppermint, tamales, tissue paper and the sweet scent of a new doll. Max is completely enchanted by the tree; "a real tree is in our house and it's for Christmas."
We placed the tree in the space between the dining room and the living room, at the tall window overlooking the pasture and the sunrise. Tonight we will plug in the string of lights and hang ornaments from the branches, being careful not place too delicate ones within Diego's playful reach. We can see it from our bedroom and the hall, from the front door and the back door, from the street below. The cats are circling it and sniffing. The boys want it decorated right now.
Anticipation has taken a full and mighty grasp. The boys are counting the days until Christmas. They are reminding me about cookie baking and visiting the mountains, and sending cards and making Diego's stocking, hanging our own. I play Christmas music in the family room; first joyous, lively tunes and then carols, and hymns, all uplifting. We found angels for our Nativity, and stars too. Christmas is coming, but it's the anticipation I most enjoy.
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