I was talking to my husband today before he went to work and said that we should have a Christmas tree for our apartment. I decided that, for some strange reason, I really did want a tree. I guess I figured that, since this was our first Christmas as a married couple, I’d really like to have a tree to mark the occasion. He was against it. He didn’t want to deal with the trouble of a tree and I don’t blame him.
See, I don’t usually like Christmas trees. They’re too much trouble to put up and they’re only up for such a short period of time that I don’t typically care to do it. I usually just go to my parents’ house and help my mom with their tree the week after Thanksgiving. (She likes that.) We go help my husband’s mother with her tree when we get a chance. It’s just what we do.
This year, I guess I want it to be different. I think that, this time, I want to start our own traditions. I don’t want to stick with the old traditions of our old families. We’ve started a new family so new traditions are in order. Of course, I’m still going to stick with the old traditions a little. The “birthday box” will be welcomed with open arms. I tend to parrot my mother’s old “hoppy bird-day”joke whenever there’s a birthday in my group of friends and family. Otherwise, I’d like to see if we can make our own things happen. I don’t want our lives to be split between his family and mine. I want our lives to be our lives. I’m fighting to make it that too. I will not accept someone else ruling our life together. I love both our sets of parents, but he is mine and I am his. We are no longer just their children. We are a unit, a husband and wife, and we will do things together in our own way.
So, I made dinner tonight like normal. I played games with my buddies online. (Iron Brigade, the current free game on Xbox Live, is quite amazing. I’m loving it.) By midnight, I couldn’t figure out where my husband was, but I really wasn’t worried. Sometimes he’s a little late due to a long phone call or he goes by his parents’ house to pick something up. I did get a cryptic message asking if I preferred stars or angels, but I figured he was getting me something either Christmas-y or for Christmas so I didn’t think anything about it. When he got home from work, he opened the door and a long box was over his shoulder. My charming husband had brought me home a Christmas tree! There wasn’t much with it—two strands of tinsel, a tree skirt, and a box of five ornaments—but that’s not what matters. What truly matters is that my husband loves me so much that, even though he didn’t want to have one, he bought me a Christmas tree. I won’t lie, I cried when he sat it down. I didn’t cry, because I was upset. I cried, because I was happy. I do that. I don’t understand it, but I do it. I was so overcome by the happiness of the moment and cried.
Thankfully, at his mother’s advice, he picked out a tree that was pre-lit with multi-colored lights so I didn’t have to do that part. I did manage to string the two strands of tinsel around to where they look decent. I put up the five Star Wars ornaments that he brought home and the tree still looks kind of naked, but we’ll fix that. We’ll add more ornaments every year until we have a tree full of gaudy bobbles. I’m all for the thing looking hideous due to having too many ornaments that don’t match at all. I’m one hundred percent ready for it.
So now, we have this neat little tree up in our living room. The cat has already tried to get under it and look around, but I’ve chased him off of it. I really don’t want him to knock it down. I worked damn hard on this thing and I’m proud of our little tree.
I look at this tree and I see the love that my husband has for me. He didn’t want a tree, but I expressed a need for it and he got it for me. That’s how I know our love is real.