Tuesday 14 December 2010

Chris in my Christmas tree tale

The forest comes to town

Every yuletide season the florist that occupies the forecourt of my apartment block seizes more acreage with a container larger than the kiosk and a large cordon fence.

The year round trade in cut flowers from far and near gives way to a forest of hacked-down conifers of pine, spruce or fir, evergreen trees of different sizes from dwarf to redwood height, well, something close.

Christmas trees and the real ones they are with wooden crosses nailed to their bottom ends rather than spending extra on a pot or some metallic foot-operated contraption that many with more money than sense purchase to stand their Christmas trees for all of a maximum of 20 days in a whole year.

You’ll be hard-pressed to find any other use for it, but it is fanciful enough to attract lose money masquerading as being hip.

Chris in my thoughts

Each time I see a tree, I think of Chris, many years ago, he was to come for Christmas and was most insistent on my getting a Christmas tree and I was not going to have any of it.

He never came, one of my many disappointments and this was because he had a dog and by the time we considered kennels and care in his absence the hurdles became insurmountable.

This Estonian/German tradition of decorating trees for Christmas just did not catch on for me, I had decorated enough artificial trees with lights and baubles that not another second of my life would be spent putting a fairy atop a tree, I see enough fairies every day.

What I’ll give

For Chris, a compromise was possible, we dared to love but easily didn’t, we dared to hug but hardly touched, hearts yearned for unity but fears left the possible unfulfilled and much as we tried to give up our entrenched positions our obstinacy left us aloof, adrift, apart and asunder.

A burning desire of hearts left too frail to be mended after each promise came to naught, time and time again but the fondness never wanes still.

So, I wonder if for Chris a Christmas tree in my living room would be just the thing to give my memories of my dearly departed a sense of being near again.

For each tree I see just reminds me of him and honestly I will tolerate everything I did not want about Christmas trees in my house just for the memory of him who can only dwell in my thoughts and smile in my dreams.

I miss you friend.

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