A Christmas Memory

       It is dark in the living room besides the Christmas tree, which softens the darkness and drapes a wall and nearby objects with a faint multicolored glow.  The tree has been decorated with care, like it is every year.  Me and mother spent an hour or two laboriously combing through boxes of old ornaments that do not match and picking which ones will go on the tree.  It is tradition for us.  She has had a few boyfriends since her and dad got a divorce when I was a year old, so the adorning of the tree rarely ever includes a man-just us two girls.  We play Christmas music and sometimes drink hot chocolate while we decorate the tree.  I pull out yards of tinsel and a wide array of ornaments that we have accumulated over the years.  They live in a few old boxes shoved away in the attic and the basement until the few weeks before Christmas when they are lovingly taken out and put on display.  Mom almost always wants to tie the big red bow on top of the Christmas tree, but I always want the star and I usually win out in the end.  Likewise, I always insist on colored lights although mom favors the white lights (we usually go with the colored). 
       This particular tree is clothed in both colored lights and the metal star.  I have won out again it seems. There is something about this room and this moment that holds a secret magic and wonder for my eleven year old self.  Even now, at nineteen, I can walk into a darkened room by myself and experience this same awe upon seeing the Christmas tree.  Each light shines off of a twinkling ornament or strand of tinsel and the effect is spectacular.  I am alone in the room with the exception of our kitten, Oreo.  I am afraid of the dark, but not this kind of dark.  With the magic of the tree and its little lights, I feel like everything is holding its breath, in complete awe of the scene and its atmosphere.  
       The tree itself is about four feet tall and is sitting atop a coffee table directly in front of a dark blue love seat.  I climb carefully behind the tree and lie down on the love seat.  I pick up Oreo and place her gently next to me.  Then I roll over on my back and wiggle under the tree.  Oreo snuggles up to me and lies down with me between my arm and my side.  Together we look up into the Christmas tree.  It is a whole new world.  It is like I have stumbled upon a mystical fairy world that is supposed to be kept secret from humans.  I pretend it really is a fairy village and I share the beauty and wonder with my kitten, who gazes upward in adorable wonder and peace, just like I do.  Together we survey the fairy court and the magical lanterns that light up the wooden pathways those magical creatures travel upon.  We glance through pine needles at what might be a carefully hidden and intricately decorated house in the evergreen.  I imagine the fairies themselves, gracefully floating from one branch to another and meeting up with friends and loved ones.  All of them would be dressed in delicate shimmery material that glows all different colors-just like the Christmas lights-and illuminates their beautiful faces and flawless skin.  I smile up into the tree, happy to share this moment with the little purring creature at my side.  

Imaginations are wonderful things-may they never grow dusty with neglect.