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Christmas Tree

Fake or Real? I have been going back and forth on this topic for over a week now. Growing up, dad took great pride in bringing home a beautiful, colorful, plump and fresh tree. The smell would fill the house with that unmistakable Christmas smell that in an instant, could fill your heart with joy. A difficult day would melt away when you walked inside to see the lights twinkle and nature’s perfume battled against any wrong that filled your mind.

Once Christmas was over though, a whole new atmosphere would arrive. The tree would start to dry out. The smell would become sickly sweet. You could feel the demise as the hours went by. The mood was almost as if a fond family pet would soon whimper out its final sigh. Needles would fight the vaccum cleaner, holding on to their last chance to be free before being sucked into that dark oblivion. “It’s time,” my dad would say with meloncoly as he would bundle up and adorn his hunting gloves. Mom would perk up with “I think time was last week honey,” obviously exhausted from the mini-battles with sticky carpet, air-freshener and surprise attacks by needle swords. She was ready to see the green menace go. Don’t get me wrong though, she enjoyed it as much as anyone at first but it always seemed to be her duty to care for the aging beauty to the very end.

After I left home I convinced myself that the cheaper, kinder alternative of a “fake” tree was the way to go. It was more sturdy, held up to the tyrade of a house-full of cats and could look better than any other tree year after year. No pain, all the gain. I always found myself making excuses for it though. “It’s not a real tree, it’s better!” “No mess.” “By using a fake tree, we’re not ending the precious life of another tree.” It worked, but it was never the same as when dad brought home a real tree.

Then last year my roommate took my wife out shopping while I was at work. When I arrived home, a big, beautiful fresh tree stood brightly in our living room. My response? “COOL!” Not once had I uttered such a sentiment to the plastic in the corner bound by plastic and tape. Not once did I ever think about using the tree-a-ma-jig that was proudly decorated several times before. No. This was cool. Why is it so much better to mutilate a natural beauty that has been fighting and standing tall for years? Why is it “cool” when we amputate a giver of life and celebrate as it slowly falls to its demise? Worse is that we do so without even naming the dear friend before it passes on.

Overdramtic?

Maybe.

Soon we will embark on our mission to procure a green wonder. The battle in my head is still going on but as with any civil war, it was over and decided before it begun. The good will soon triumph and some discount store will enjoy my donation to their till as we walk out with an overpriced construction set. Once assembled and lit, we will name it “Our Christmas Tree.”