Flooded, Part 1

As I promised my mother, I put up my Christmas tree.

With Mr. X as my assistant.

I knew memories would come.

I knew memories would be attached to lots of ornaments.

But I hoped it would also help me.

Perhaps make me feel a little better about all this holiday crapola.

Maybe.

Before I handed the ornaments to Mr. X, I looked at them.

Remembered.

And let the memories flood over me.

Good and bad.

My music note ornament from high school.

The ornament my friend Andrea gave me one of the last Christmases she was in the country.

A wooden miniature bird house from an older widower I met on a plane the year my friend Andrea got married.

My superman and wonder woman ornaments from my dear friend Courtney.

Joanne and Javier's wedding favor ornament.

Lots of happy memories.

Then...

The bride and groom fish ornaments.

They are held together with magnets to look like they are kissing.

The "brother" ornament.

The "Dream" ornament with his name and the year on it.

I put them in a bag.

Back in the Christmas box.

I figure out what to do with them later.

Ornaments that scream Roger.

Dr. Seuss.

Frosty the Snowman.

Rudolph.

Superheroes.

I let those be hung on the tree.

After Christmas 2007, Roger and I bought stocking holders to hang in the archway dividing our family room and dining room.

The kind that are super heavy and sit on a shelf so we would not have to put holes in our walls.

We bought several of them.

One for each of us. A few for possible visitors.

Never used.

Still not.

It is silly for me to hang up just one lonely stocking.

Why would I?

To mock me.

To show me how little my family unit has become.

They will stay in the box for now.

Along with Roger's stocking.

For now.

But I did it.

I put up my tree.

I was flooded.

But it is there.

It is all there.