Our First Christmas Tree (in which I wax poetic about a twenty-five-year-old fake plant)

This is the story of a little artificial Christmas tree that has witnessed many a joy-filled Christmas.

When my parents were married on December 4, 1987, they embarked on their honeymoon and came back to find this cheerfully decorated Christmas tree in their new home.

Now Kenny and I are using it for our first Christmas as Mr. and Mrs.

However, the tree is feeling its age. Being stuffed into a box and shoved into an attic every January for the past 25 years has been hard on this little guy.

Here’s how it emerged this year in our little apartment.

At least it still stood straight and tall. That is, after I tightened the tree stand. Kenny was not so successful with his attempt. I have had much practice wedging myself under artificial trees and screwing in that trifecta of screws just so.

Here’s how it looked after I’d fluffed it up, good and proper. A nice ruffled tree skirt did not hurt appearances either.

However, the poking and prodding and general shaping I did to the tree was not so kind as I’d hoped. Still, I am rather impressed at how little this aged tree shed. 25 years is a long time for tiny plastic needles to stick to a prickly bunch of wires.

After I cleaned up after the tree, we began to dress it up a bit.

We strung some fresh lights on the tree, draped a ribbon garland, appointed an angel atop, and opened our boxes of treasured ornaments to carefully arrange on the little tree’s plastic branches. After its makeover, the tree was glowing.

I can say with near certainty that someday this little tree will be upgraded for a bigger, newer model, or perhaps even the real deal.

But for this year, this tree is perfect.

By the way, happy 25th anniversary, Mom and Dad!

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