A Very 2020 Christmas: The One Where I Decorate the Tree and Bore You to Death

So, back about fifteen years ago, in early September, I hatched a plan that, in retrospect, was about the most unrealistic thing I could have concocted. I promised myself that if there wasn't a resurgence of the plague come Christmas, I'd drive down to Florida to spend the holidays with my sisters.

Ha. Ha. Ha. (Definitely not Ho ho ho.)

For a number of reasons that should be obvious, this isn't happening. The plague is resurging. I work with people almost every day, and I would rather not put my family at risk. And even though I've spent most of the past year in isolation, it hasn't turned me into a total asshole. The winter is slowly closing in on us here in the Midwest, and since it's no longer easy to socialize out-of-doors, people are doing exactly what anyone could have predicted: they're being dumbasses, inside. 

Anyway. I digress. My point is: Boy howdy, I will sure as shit be home for Christmas. Home as in my Indiana home, not my Florida past-home. 

It's hard. I love Christmas, weird little heathen that I am. I love the decorations and lights and coming up with lovely ideas for gifts, and I love the songs and parties and foods and glittering, glowing, sparkling joy. I even love the rather melancholy, but entirely inevitable, time of reflection that comes along with the lowering grey skies and the year ending, when memories of family and friends who have moved on or passed on out of my life crowd into my head once more. 

When I made the decision not to go to Florida for Christmas, I sulked and stewed inwardly for a second, and resented anything and everything about 2020. And then I thought, "2020 doesn't have to ruin Christmas. I can still enjoy this fucking holiday. If I choose not to, that's on me." So, I decided to lean into this extraordinarily fucked-up holiday season as much as I could. 

One of my favorite traditions is decorating my tree. One day, I'll have two Christmas trees--one of those shiny sparkly bougie themed trees for show in the living room window, and a hodge-podge tree with all of my lovely ornaments and bits and bobs I've acquired over the years. But for now, all I have is a scraggly old tree with a hideous assortment of ornaments. I usually have a friend or two over to keep me company as I put up the various ornaments, who patiently listen as I share the backstory of some of them. This year, of course, I can't do that. 

Except I can. With all y'all!

This is the latest addition--my brother-in-law sent this along
 to me, and if isn't perfect, I don't know what is!

When my sisters and I were wee mites, we would play with the ornaments

on our tree, much as though they were dolls and accessories. Our cousin

worked for Avon, and provided us with a magical treasure trove of Avon-

issued ornaments to aid us in our earnest flights of fancy. One of our favorites 

from this trove was the set of "Nutcracker" characters; we'd spend countless 

hours, over many Decembers,  with these crude wooden ornaments clutched 

in our fumbling, childish hands. Of course, they disappeared during the various

 traumas and upheavals of our adolescence, but about 12 years ago, Eldest Sister 

scored a vintage set on Etsy and brought this magic back into my life. 

Each year, my friends Michael and Anna give me an ornament with

 a picture of their son, my "nephew". These pictures always remind 

me of how we choose our family, and how lucky I am that 

these lovely people chose me for their family, too. 

One of my ex-boyfriends...we'll call him Mr. Robinson...gave this to 

me, back in 1998. It was originally part of a set (with Mickey, of

 course), but Mickey has long since departed. Or perhaps I showed 

Mickey the door, much was I eventually did with Mr Robinson? 

Also, I don't give two hoots about Disney shit, but the boyfriend 

sure did. I'm still not sure why he got me this, but I know why I keep 

it. Mr Robinson passed away five years ago now, and as problematic

 as our relationship was, it feels wrong to forget it, or him. 

Back in 2002, I was living with another boyfriend (John the Saint). It 

was my first apartment; it was the first man I shacked up with; it was the 

first time I had my very own Christmas tree. It was a beautiful (thematic!)

 tree, decorated in silver and white and ice-blue and lavender. This spray

 of stars is the only remaining ornament from that gorgeous tree...and 

close to the only thing that remains of my time with John the Saint. 

Speaking of boyfriends (again), this is an ornament that I purchased 

back during Indiana 1.0, in 2004, when I was shacked up with my boyfriend

 at the time (Mr. Indiana, AKA the previously mentioned Michael.) In the

 great scheme of my life, it was a fairly short-lived relationship, and it

 ended with me throwing out or giving away most of my belongings, packing 

whatever was left in my car, and driving to California to launch my career

 as a librarian. What on earth made me decide, Yes, I will save this ornament, 

but not my pots and pans, and move it with me all the way to California? 

No fucking clue, but I'm glad I did!

Speaking of California...this little dangly, wobbly...crawdad? bay bug? came 

into my life around 2007, given to me by one of the first friends I made when

 I came to California. Kristin and I both had (and hopefully still have) a ridiculously
 absurd and quirky sense of humor, and every year, when I unpack this little guy, 

I laugh as much as I did when I first got him. Damn, I miss Kristin. 

My time in California (along with my marriage) finally and thankfully

 came to an end, and I returned home to the Midwest. I was so freakin' glad 
to shake the California dust from my shoes,  but I still stayed in touch with 
some of the folks I had befriended there. My first Christmas back in Indiana, one 
of those California friends orchestrated a Secret Santa exchange with all of 
her Facebook friends, and I decided to participate...only to be gifted, by some
 well-intentioned stranger, these ornaments. At the time I unwrapped them,
  I maybe shuddered a little bit, but enough time has passed now that when I
 put these ornaments on the tree, I smile and remember that past life and don't
  curse all those who peopled it to the bowels of hell. (Also, they live in 
Palm Springs, so I'm pretty sure they're already in hell.)

Whenever I travel to someplace new (oh, travel! remember that?) 

I like to pick up a Christmas ornament to remind me of my travels.

 In 2019, I journeyed to Australia, and picked up this little guy. 

It's a cassowary. Otherwise known as a Murder Bird. 

The end result of all these ornaments, gathered over various lives within my life. And 

yes, that is a mask you see, dangling towards the bottom of the tree. Fuck you, 2020.