Their lives are very busy right now, those of my three almost adult children. They will soon be home under our roof again, all five of us to celebrate Christmas together. We will head up the street to the neighborhood farm stand to pick out the perfect Christmas tree. One that will fit just so in our cozy family room. I can imagine it now, the way this process will play out. One daughter will spy a tall, elegant, slender tree that reaches our ceiling. She will talk about how all of our ornaments may actually fit on a tree this size. The other daughter will want a shorter, more plump tree with long needles and branches. She will reminisce about how her dad has taught her to place certain ornaments back in the branches for a more dramatic effect. My son will choose a tree with his nose, not his eyes. He will find one with the most beautiful scent, the kind that drums up memories of hikes in the woods of Maine and New Hampshire — one that will fill our home with the scent of Christmas.
As my family relives this routine each year, I am reminded of my first Christmas married to my husband. Prior to our wedding, we had found a wonderful little apartment to rent on the third floor of an old Victorian. It had the smallest galley kitchen and a nice eating nook. In total contrast, the living room was a space to be reckoned with. We were thrilled with its expansive size, with its high, seemingly endless ceilings and the wide and tall great wall. We easily ignored the pale pink painted walls, as the natural sunlight lit up the room in an almost ethereal fashion. We envisioned entertaining our family and friends in this space, watching movies on a big-screen TV while sitting curled up on a sectional that snaked around the center of the room, and even having parties where there was room to dance.
Being practical, we set a goal of buying our own home at the end of the lease. So we worked and saved. We did not purchase that big-screen TV or that sectional. The great wall remained bare, and the room was furnished with a love seat, chair, and my 1980’s Zenith TV. We were happy.
As our first Christmas together approached, we began decorating our apartment with the festive items we owned. We also booked a trip to Minneapolis to spend the holidays with my husband’s family. We were faced with our first dilemma as newlyweds. We had already decided that when we had our own home, we would buy a fresh-cut tree. But what to do this year? We were traveling and on a tight budget, so purchasing a tree seemed unwise. However, Christmas without a tree seemed sad.
So together my husband and I considered our options and ended up “getting’’ what has turned out to be our most memorable and talked about tree. With an old-fashioned slide projector and a picture of my husband’s Christmas tree from the past year, we projected the most beautiful tree onto the expansive great wall of that living room. The colors were brilliant! Even better, we could move the projector and make the tree short and plump or move it back and make it tall and slender. We placed our family gifts “under’’ the tree.
As we headed out this year with our children on our journey to find the “perfect’ tree, we asked our kids whether they would ever consider having a funky projected tree so that size and shape would appeal to all. But my son was quick to remind us that “we want a tree that will fill our home with the scent of Christmas.’’ So out the door we go to the farm stand up the street.
Suzanne Berry, an occupational therapist, lives in Milton. Send comments and a 550-word essay on your first home to Address@globe.com. Please note: We do not respond to submissions we won’t pursue.
