The Story of the little Christmas Tree

My mother still has her Christmas tree up. She's got a project this year to write down all the stories associated with all the lovely ornaments she's collected and displayed over the years. I'm going to help.

Here's the story of the little felt Christmas tree that hangs on her tree every year, usually in the back, because I made it when I was six. The tree itself is green felt, with a bit of stuffing between the two sides, with a silver corded ribbon and some shiny sequins shaped like candles, stars and moons glued on with Elmer's glue.

The day I made the little felt tree I was in kindergarten. Some time before the craft happened I was pulled away from the group, probably to take some medicine. I tended to be a sickly child and was always taking some sort of medicine, usually some pink bubblegum flavored syrup. By the time I got back, all the big gold star sequins were taken to top the other children's trees. I gathered what I could, which looks like two gold moons, two red stars, two gold candles, and a tiny blue star, which topped my tree. I decorated the tree with the glue in paper dishes in the middle of the table (which is why there is glue on the front sides of the ornaments) and had the nice teacher stuff and glue it together. The teacher also wrote "To Mommy 1978" on the back of the tree.

Today when I was sitting in Mom's living room waiting for her to get ready for the play we were going to see, I looked at the little Christmas tree and started to cry. I took it down and turned it over in my hands and realized that the nice teacher, so many years ago, had spelled Mommie wrong, on top of everything else. I really was feeling sorry for myself. I had a very trying day at work, was told I was letting things get to me, that everyone felt the way I felt, that I shouldn't be as frustrated as I clearly felt, and not to make a scene as it wasn't good for the team. As I looked at this little ornament, I felt like my whole life had gone the same way as that long ago craft project. Everyone got to the table before me and got the good stuff, and I was left to make the best of what I got, which was pretty pathetic and sad. Every time I try, it seems I fall on my face, and everyone has something I want, but I am too afraid to go after it. Hell, I don't even know what my gold star would be at this point.

Since getting home from the play, I sat down to finish writing this post. I'm not saying that I had any epiphany and now realize that if I'm given lemons I should make lemonade, but I did think that I'm possibly the only child who still has their little ornament from kindergarten on the family Christmas tree. I'm just trying to decide if that's enough.