"You can have anything you want as far as decorations go," my father told me last night. "The Christmas tree will be here next Sunday."
In later years, my parents graduated to frou frou white Christmas lights and color coordinated ornaments. I long for those haphazard ornaments and colored lights of my youth. It was always a special occasion when we would scour the woods in God's country, chop down an evergreen tree, and come home that afternoon to decorate it. As my parent's income drastically increased, these thrifty traditions faded away. They could afford to buy what I thought were pre-made, boxed Christmas trees. They put up a fake tree now! Horror!
"Can I come and pick out the tree?" I asked Dad last night.
"Sure," he said. "I want this to be special for you."
I fell asleep last night dreaming of sitting on the floor in front of my homely Christmas tree with Maggie by my side. Colorful blown glass ornaments sparkled in the multicolor lights. Tinsel gleamed along with the pine pitch smell of a real tree. I am so excited. It is going to be a Merry Christmas in J-ville.