My House and the 12 Days Christmas
Twelve days to Christmas Day and no tree up yet, Rosie thought as slipping and sliding she picked her steps carefully over the freezing ice on the patio. Inside the garage she stopped to look at the Christmas tree. Its branches all droopy and forlorn looked back at her as if to say “It’s past my time to be in the house brightening up the place.”
“Give over,” Rosie said. “You’re lucky you’re still here, the recycling depot nearly got you. When Christmas time passed last year .I decided for this Christmas I’d buy a new tree; one that came in one piece, had everything on it – lights and all and a plug; a real ‘keep life simple’ tree,” she sighed, “not a great big lump of a thing like you that comes in three sections..” She filled her arms with firewood and turned to pull the door after her.
“Keep it for another year,” her son had coaxed. “You love a big tree to decorate with all the bits and bobbles you have gathered up over the years.” He took a fit of laughing. “Remember Dad’s face when he saw the huge box the tree came in that first Christmas? Rosie remembered. Between them, we had manhandled it into the kitchen.
The kitchen had that lovely warm familiar smell of a Christmas cake baking in the oven; every counter space was covered with wire baking trays filled with rich dark golden fruits cakes waiting to be decorated with little reindeers ,red robins and sprigs of holly and wrapped in a festive Christmas border of green and red.
“It’s far too big, it’ll never fit in the living room,” Michael, her husband had shouted over the din of the old fashioned electric cake mixer. It sounded more like a cement mixer but Michael always said he had no faith in them new ones they sold now.
The bitter cold in the garage brought Rosie back to the present.
“Right, Tree,” she said, giving in. “Wait there. You’re going up for another year.”
She Struggled the bottom end of tree with its pronged feet still attached out through the garage door and hesitated. I should make space for it in a corner of the living room before I bring it into the house, she mused.
By the time she’d rearranged the armchair and the table lamp and brought in the middle bit and the top bit of the tree it was growing dark
Outside the living room window the front garden and the street beyond looked like a real Christmas scene. The garden lights flickered on the tufts of grass peeking through the snow and the street light cast shadows on the ice making it shine like frosted icing.
The tree, ensconced in the corner now looked decidedly happier with itself. With the two biggest parts connected all I have to do now, Rosie thought, is straighten out the branches, get the steps and attach the bit at the top that will hold the angel fairy. Thinking about the fairy she couldn’t help smiling. She was a bit fancy in her wine coloured gold festooned dress to be an angel so they had always called her the Angel Fairy. There wasn’t enough space to sit her regally on the top of the old tree. She always had to sit precariously slight further down the tree and hang on for dear life. She too, was probably keeping her wings crossed that she’d have a new tree to preside over this Christmas. She was going to be disappointed for another year, Rosie thought.
The living room had that Christmassy chaotic look; bags and boxes of brightly coloured decorations took up the space between the sofa and the fireplace. Zoe, the old spaniel, thinking it was a great distraction from hugging the fire to keep warm, decided she’d search through the bags and play footsie with the coloured balls
The fire was burning brightly giving the room a cosy feel and the task of decorating the tree didn’t seem such a bit ordeal after all.
Rosie browsed through the decorations. Some of the baubles and coloured balls were relatively new – bought just a few Christmases before but some were old and brought memories of when and where she’d bought them.
Some were from other Christmas trees she’d had at another time when she’d lived in other houses.
She picked up a little coloured ball with a small Santa clause painted on it. She picked up another one. They both had come from a small table top fully decorated miniature Christmas tree she had found in a shop that sold second hand furniture from house clearances. Initially it had been its size that had attracted her. Her son had moved to a new town. He was coming home for Christmas but the tree would brighten up his drab rented house for a few weeks before Christmas.
She had bought the little tree in 2006, when houses were being bought and sold for crazy prices. The rented house was sold and her son had to move on.
Rosie had kept the little tree. She often wondered whose house clearance it had come from and had it created sad or happy memories for whoever had owned it before her son. Each year as she hung the little trinkets and hand painted baubles from the small tree, on her Christmas tree she always offered up a silent prayer for its previous owners hoping they were happy this Christmas as she was despite the bitter cold weather and family far away.
She shook herself out of her reverie and stood, deciding what should she put on the tree first – lights or decorations? I’m sure in these ultra-modern times there’s a ‘way’ to decorate a tree, she thought.
I should Google it. Everybody seemed to google everything these days. Where had she left her mobile phone? “Life was simpler when the phone sat on the phone table in the hall,” she muttered, lifting this singing Santa Clause and checking underneath the plethora of decorations. She decided to make a cup of tea and have a piece of the Madeira cake she’d bought in the town. Then she’d use the house phone to ring her mobile. That made her smile. Imagine, using a phone to find a phone.
Tea finished, she decided to give Google a miss. “Everything is far too much ‘googled” and “photo shopped” these days,” she murmured. “My brother Tom used to sing, I’ll do it my way, that’s just what I’ll do, “she said giving a wee giggle.
Fingers crossed, she decided to start with the Christmas lights pleased to discover that they were working. Standing on the kitchen steps she stretched as far as she could above her head and lassoed the flashing lights over the top branches of the tree, hoping it would slip over and down the back .Well pleased with how the tree decorating was going she clapped herself on the back at her progress. For a minute it seemed she had succeeded and then the first set of lights that had been shining brightly promptly went out.
No amount of swearing, praying or imploring in the Good Lord’s name brought them on again. They sat there dull and lifeless blankly staring back at her.
What was she going to do now! Then Rosie sighed with relief remembering before the present high tech era, the way to fix the Christmas tree lights was to check if any of the bulbs were loose. Once found and tightened or the fuse replaced the lights worked perfectly. Tediously, Rosie tried every small bulb twice in the set watching anxiously for any sign of a flashing light.
Not beat yet she decided to try the ‘spare’ sets. They had been gathered up over the years and discarded for newer fancier Christmas lights. They lay in a tangled heap in a box. With a determined set to her mouth, Rosie began to untangle them. To her delight when they were plugged in they flashed and twinkled
At last the bags and boxes in the middle of the living room floor were empty of tree decorations. Rosie placed the last bauble on the tree and stood back to admire her handiwork. The old set of lights twinkled as if they too were pleased to show, like the old Christmas tree they were still fit to do the job.
Not everybody was happy. The Fairy Angle, sitting at a peculiar angle with an extra branch up her skirt to keep her steady looked down at Rosie reproachfully.
“No too bad, Tree,” Rosie smiled. “You’re right. You’ll be grand and brighten the place up for another year.”
Gemma Hill Dec 2022 ©
Gemma Hill Writeyou Writeme 