A friend of mine, two years ago, gave me one of those ceramic Christmas tree decorations with the little plastic "lights" under which you put a chandelier bulb to illuminate it. She painted it herself.
Both my grandmothers had trees like this, and this little gift makes me *so* happy, every year. It's a pretty decoration, but it reaches back to memories of Christmases with family, and does a little something more than simply sitting and shining. Plus, a truly beloved friend made this just for me; it is the sort of gift that rather literally keeps on giving.
I just put this tree out (the "real" tree waits for the anniversary of my parents' wedding, which is also the anniversary of my first ever date with X - and was always the evening, growing up, my family decorated for Christmas), and am just sitting and looking at its bright little plastic points, and grinning and enjoying the first small surge of that silly thing we call "holiday spirit".
I hadn't planned on bringing any decorations out, but have sort of made a few bits and bobs part of the house cleaning today. Very pleasant.
X looks at pictures of this place, a place he thinks of at "home" in a way unlike his hated domicile, the city of his residence, and both warmly and wistfully describes it as "cheering". I've never especially thought of myself as a person of "cheer" as such - and yet, when he says that, I see it as he does. This home is cozy, and comfortable, and warm in more than one way. I hope it is welcoming.
This tree is cheering. It is the talisman of a friendship I like very much, and symbol of a holiday which, spiritually, means more to me every year.
What a great gift. I will thank her - again - soon.
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