Ornaments

The regiment of ornaments lines the Target shelves, each in various shades of mauve or chartreuse or some other color whose name I can spell but whose hue I cannot necessarily picture. I wonder when we all decided Christmas had to be so coordinated. When each branch of the tree had to fall in line.

Not so on our tree. It blinks and glitters, laden down with bits of chaotic joy grabbed from the past. That little set of Santa figurines I got from Cost Less for cheap for my first dead-broke Christmas in my apartment. Friends’ empty cigarette packs I wrapped up to look like little presents. Ornaments from husband’s grandparents marked with his name and the year almost every year going back to birth.

Nothing matches but I take each bauble and trinket out of its box where it has waited out the summer and each gives me more joy than any perfectly color-coordinated little glass soldier. Christmas is a messy riot of experiences, something without theme or reason or rhyme but something that makes me smile when I see it all at once. That’s life, too.