My pink tree is un-boxed and cheerily casting a rosy glow in my apartment. I love the sight of it, and it's amazing what kind of effect the simple addition of that little tree has done to make me feel more connected to Christmas. True, I haven't busted out the mini ornaments yet, but its mere presence is reminder enough that Christmas is coming, and that I have so many things to be thankful for...like my friends, my wonderful family, my work (and the fact that I actually LOVE my work), a God who loves me beyond the scope of my imagination, the roof over my head, and the food in my fridge...and the simple fact that I can have a pink tree in my apartment without worry of ridicule.
It occurred to me the other day that this is the first Christmas in a long time that nothing on my Christmas wish list has to do with my love life (or lack thereof). For many years before I got married, I asked Santa (not really, but you get my point) to bring me a boyfriend or husband...love of some kind. Last year, Christmas was so turned upside down by my husband's death that I was pretty much at the point of wishing it all away. This year's list for Santa includes NO MEN at all––in no way, shape, or form.
I'm turning over a new leaf, I guess. Strange, but true. And kind of liberating, now that I think about it. I'm not on the man hunt, and it's really not something I miss. If one comes to me, fine. If not, fine. I know now that it's important to let things happen as they happen. Not to push. Not to expect the magic-ness of my life t depend on the presence of romance. There are still gifts to enjoy, wonders to experience, moments to treasure, and memories to make. They're still there, waiting to be unwrapped...and if I forget that, I can find a rosy reminder in my little pink tree.
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