Arbolito

Bah humbug. I am not too fond of the Christmas holiday season. I am convinced it has lost all it's magic and true meaning but that's a whole other kettle of fish. As a child it was a different story. Christmas was magical and full of love and family. Gifts were never a big deal. We were poor so gifts were very simple and cheap and mostly home made. It was a good year when under the tree on Christmas morning I found candy or something to read. Growing up the holiday was all about the traditions, the culture, family and the Christmas tree. Oh, our Christmas tree, now there was a sight to be hold. Today the only thing that still excites me about this bah humbug holiday is the Christmas tree. I love looking at Christmas trees, and I've always loved having one. The twinkle of the lights, the ornaments, the always personal tree topper. I love Christmas trees.

Growing up in Brooklyn, getting the tree was the highlight of my year. We almost never got a tree before Christmas eve. They were much cheaper if you waited until the very last minute to buy one. Of course this also meant that what was left in the tree lot was a sad version of a "Charlie Brown tree". Getting a tree was a family affair, we always walked together to the same tree lot on Linden Boulevard. We spent so much time lingering among the little lifeless skinny trees left that by the time we decided we were all shivering. Should we get that scrawny little one or this scrawny little one? The absolute cheapest tree they had, that's the one we got. It was always the ugliest, scrawniest, most pathetic tree on the lot. But to me, it was beautiful and full of magic. We would carry our tree all the way home, singing Christmas carol's all the way.

Where to put the tree once we got it home was never an issue, anywhere in the living that was close to a plug. We didn't need to make room for it as there wasn't anything in the living except a couple kitchen chairs, a black and white TV and a stereo. That stereo was our prize possession. Music has always played in my life. My parents would play typical Puerto Rican music, aguinaldos (folk type carols), plenas (also folkloric music influenced by African and Spanish music), some Ramito, Chuito de Bayamon, and mixed in was a little "white christmas", "We three Kings"and "Jingle bells".

Our decorations were handmade, mostly stuff we had made in school, a construction paper multi-colored chain and sometimes some angel hair. Angel hair made you itch if you touched it for too long but when illuminated by the twinkling lights, it was mesmerizing. The tree topper was an angel my mom had bought, it had a plastic head, with blond hair, and mesh wings, and lights in it's little plastic hands and it cost $1.00. I still have that angel, the lights don't work, it's blond hair is mostly missing, and the mesh has holes, but I still have it.

Our tree was lit every single night and all day long on weekends. We ate dinner sitting near it, in fact if I was home I could always be found near it. We kept it until January 8th. (January 6th was 3 kings day and the 7th my birthday) By January 8th, it was lopsided and had little to no needles. It was a sad day when we said goodbye to it.

As the pretend adult I now am, Christmas trees still excite me. My Christmas tree is a work of art. It is big and tall, expensive and fake. ( I live in the tropics my little huckleberries, a real tree would be dead in minutes.) Every single light and ornament placed in just the perfect spot. Almost every ornament has a reason or meaning for being part of my tree. I spend hours making it look perfect. (of course "perfect" is a relative term). The top still holds an angel, a pretty porcelain one, with delicate features. My childhood angel now retired due to it's fragile condition.

Every time I walk by a Christmas tree, every time I stop to look at one, I am reminded of my family. I can hear us singing, and laughing. I remember that "Charlie Brown tree" of my childhood and marvel at the magic it brought to my house every single Christmas. The magic tree that once it came into our home wasn't scrawny and sad but tall and full and beautiful. The magic tree that shared our love and was an honored guest. I am EsLocura and I love Christmas trees. (I wonder if there's a help group for that).