Say Hello to Dolly

This is our Christmas tree. I’m going to call her Dolly.

Dolly came in three pieces that stack. Each piece is prelit with white lights with the A piece plugging into the B piece and then into the C piece and then to the green extension cord that had been hiding on the back porch from when I used it to fire up my laptop on summer days when I was sharpening my shabby chic writer persona by hanging out there with the dogs and the chickadees.

Dolly wears no tree skirt though I have both a red one and a white one with sparkles that could be used. A skirt would mess up Dolly’s streamlined look. So would more lights. I am going for an understated look, like a nice blazer with jeans look. Classy. Not trying to win a contest or have folks on the street stop and stare through the living room window.

I just want to walk downstairs and see Dolly smiling at me.

In a month, I’ll put Dolly’s A, B, and C pieces in the box she came in. I’ll carry the box to the attic and put it on the floor next to the giant green Christmas tree stand with five huge screws that we used to make a six-foot formerly live tree submit to our vision for its afterlife. I’ll remember having to crawl on my belly under the branches to put water in the stand every day because of my mortal fear of the possibility of the tree spontaneously combusting and killing us all in the night. I’ll remember the wondrous ‘taking the tree to the curb’ ritual and all the pine needles in the front hall carpet dating back to 1984. It is in reminiscing that we truly appreciate the present.

Say hello to Dolly and wish her well.