One might wonder, that after not writing anything for this
blog in months, why suddenly I want to write about a tiny Christmas tree. Especially, since this blog is about writing
basics. Well, let me explain.
Writing comes from inside the writer. Writing comes from outside influences on the
writer. Do you see that as a
contradiction? It’s not. Both are true.
Christmas has always held special meaning for me. I’d like to say because it is the day our
Savior was born, or at least the date we have chosen to celebrate His
birth. But in truth, while I will admit
that the story of the first Christmas has always meant a lot, it is the giving
that has always meant so much more. Not
to mention all the glitz and glitter. I
won’t mention more about that since my younger son still gets tremors of fear
when I mention decorating.
However this year is going to be different for us. It has been a difficult year. So many, many changes. One of them was moving to a tiny, one bedroom
apartment. Another was getting rid of
many of my much-treasured Christmas decorations. As the holiday approaches I still feel an
ache of what is gone.
Still, one must face reality. The last several years of decorating were a
little bit disheartening. We would
decorate and in the end, spend most of the holiday alone. I guess last year was the beginning of
reality setting in. I admired my lovely
home and was saddened that no one shared my feelings.
So moving forced the change.
Forced is the keyword. Though on
the outside I tried to show a happy face, I knew in reality I was kicking and
screaming inside. I knew the collections
of Christmas decorations I loved: snow globes, Nativities, nut-crackers and
Santa Clauses, were not as meaningful to my grandchildren; even less to their
parents who I know looked upon the gifts as a storage nightmare. Deep down I know this Christmas there will
likely not even be one of those beloved items displayed in their homes.
Instead of allowing myself to fall into depression, I have
determined it is time for me to get back to writing. I had taken enough time away from that love
after moving. I needed to be
inspired. I also needed to fine some new
names for my characters since the kids have complained about my using their
names. It wasn’t the honor I thought it
would be. But that is another story.
Since we moved directly across from a cemetery I decided to
explore. I could find some interesting
names on headstones. Oh and there
certainly was an assortment of those.
Names and headstones.
That brought me to more ideas. I mean, most of the newer cemeteries in the
area have strict requirements, like no headstones. Flowers must only be in the vases
provided. Etc. etc. This cemetery is very non-conforming. And I love it! I guess that says a lot about the inside of
this writer, who is also a non-conformist at heart.
As I walk through the cemetery I note the dates and more
thoughts cross my mind. Many date back
to the Civil War. A few might even date
back to the Revolutionary War. We live
close to Valley Forge. Could General
George Washington have walked these paths while they were mere fields?
There’s a little log house way back in the cemetery. Could our first president have slept
there? He slept everywhere else. Why not there?
My imagination took off at the speed of a jet plane. I looked at the family plots and wondered
about the people buried there. I thought
the person below the stone marked “Grandmother,” may have been very much like
me. She may have treasured the family
Christmas’s of old. She might have felt
like there was a hole in her heart after her children grew up and had their own
families, their lives, and their own obligations. Well, they are together now, I thought.
Okay, I admit my brain does get stuck now and then. In this case, on what I didn’t have. I’d forgotten the reason for my
exploration. I renewed my purpose to
forget the negative and focus on the positive.
My love of writing.
Then the other night I was walking my dog and saw blinking
lights in the middle of the dark cemetery.
Colored lights in the shape of a tiny Christmas tree. I felt a bit of sadness looking over at the
sight. That tiny bit of Christmas for
someone who was gone, no longer able to enjoy it.
Today I was sitting outside, enjoying the unusually warm air
for autumn, and looked over at the cemetery and spotted the tiny decorated
tree. During daylight I could see the
toys and brightly wrapped gifts beneath it.
Tears filled my eyes as I thought more about it. Was
this for a child recently gone? Or, was
it a grandmother, like me, who had loved the holiday.
My tears quickly disappeared as I again allowed my thoughts
to wander. What a wonderful, simple
tribute to someone who was loved. It
touched me in ways, I can’t explain.
That is why I decided to use that Christmas tree as a means
of allowing my imagination to flow. And
possibly allow your imagination to flow, too.
In the comments, write your thoughts about that tree. Who is it for? Who decorated it? What is their story?
Fantasy is often better than reality, so I probably won’t
walk over to find clues to the answers to these questions. I’m going to smile and think about it,
whenever I start another pity-party.
After all there is a lonely, little Christmas tree marking another
person’s story that is more sad than mine. Or, it could be happy. That depends on how you view it.
