The Ever Shrinking Christmas Tree

 
My tree has been a constant in Christmas ever since my mum gave it to me in 1991.

We, my tree and I, have been through a lot together.

A house move.

Cog arriving. 

Single parenting.

Another house move.

The years I have dragged the box out of the attic on my own and brought it downstairs in sections because it was too heavy to carry alone.

Every year the same tree, the same decorations.

We look forward to opening the box and greeting our old friends.  We talk about the memories of where they came from and for some of them, the purpose they have on the tree.

It became tradition somewhere along the way that Cog puts the star on our tree.

The year she fell off the chair and into the tree.
I thought it was very funny, she did not.

Some of the Christmas tree putting up togetherness spirit may have died at that point!

The year she was so excited about getting the tree out, she insisted we did it the first weekend in December.

What I started to notice, like so many of us getting older, my tree is clearly shrinking.

















The year I thought it might be the last year she would be alive to do this.

And this year, still ill but working through it, a new star, like a new beginning.