Christmas has come and gone, but the tree remains, nobly facing the facts of impending irrelevance.
For now, we are content to enjoy its magnificent height, its fresh-pine scent, its light-adorned boughs. For now, we are still in the holiday spirit. And so we will keep watering the tree. At least until the new year rolls around.
I was walking through the living room just now and glanced at the tree and noticed a beam of light shine through the east-facing window and land upon the middle of the tree. Were the tree not there, the light would have landed on the bookcase, which means I would not have noticed it.
I thank the tree for that light, some two days after the end of expected presents. It’s not the light I appreciate so much as the fact the light made me see what was really going on, that there was a 10-foot tree in the middle of my living room. It was a strange and wonderful fact I had completely taken for granted. Like so much else in my life.
And so I thank the tree for reminding me of the splendid novelty with which we are surrounded, the odd contours that distinguish our lives, that make them compelling and exciting in the midst of all that is simple and expected.
