And then the tree went down

December 27, 2014

Written by Marykatee O’Malley, mother of three wonderful children, Gladwyne PA

And then the tree went down, sounding like the crash of a cymbal, all crystal and glass and pine meeting the floor in one glorious clap. I rushed from my duties at the stove, noting no crying. And then heard my sister, “All is okay! The tree fell”. And suddenly a rush to the downed evergreen lying across the living room as my sister like a chief surgeon called out directions, “everyone grab the presents!” as a consistent wave of water flowed outwards into the room. And then “I need towels” and “take this branch”, “dust buster, “broom and dust pan”, and like surgical assistants we scurried about her with one clear and unified goal, to save the downed tree.

Some Christmas Eve’s are quiet. Others involve trees falling and Santa arriving to visit outside your home on a decorated fire engine with an entourage of public safety personnel. Tables delicately set with china, and crystal glasses, holly and poinsettias, lined with hams, turkeys, and all those fish wait while we gather outside like a flash mob in one fleeting and celebratory block party. Apples and oranges are handed out, photographs are taken with Santa and the magic and joy feels like nothing you could ever describe in a post.

Jesus was born in a manager because there was no room for them at the inn. I think Christmas is meant to be colorful, with trees falling and sirens piercing the quiet of night, red engines decorated with lights careening down your street. “Remember the year the tree fell” we will say years from now reflecting back on that not so quiet night. This is Christmas; loud, messy and glorious Christmas.