Merry Christmas, Christmas-celebrators! I hope you are all having a wonderful day. I was inspired by blogger Natalie Holbrook to write about my Christmas tree. You can read that short essay below.
After graduating from college, I packed my life into four suitcases, said goodbye to a lot of my shoes, and moved across the country to live with three of my favorite friends in New York City! I couldn’t wait to have my first adult apartment and decorate my first grown-up Christmas tree.
However, after six months of an unsuccessful search for a Real Job and two months of an unsuccessful search for a couch small enough to fit through our apartment’s tiny front door,* I decided it would be imprudent to buy one. I suppose a living room without a couch would have allowed the tree to be the center of attention, and I’m sure that stripped-down-modern-Christmas feeling appeals to some. But for me, a tree without a couch from which to contemplate it seemed sad and somehow symbolic of my lacking stable employment.
Besides, New York is practically the Official City of Christmas Trees. Being a resident, I reckoned I could pick a favorite and declare it mine. I thought of letting the Rockefeller Tree & the Madison Square Park Tree compete for my affection—although let’s be real, I’m an indoor gal. The Plaza would have probably won, no contest.
I was busy creating a mental tree scoresheet when, like all great things, my favorite tree found me.
She spotted me on my way to the Subway and declared, ‘Hey, I’m your New York tree!’
I like her because she is so New York. Not bright lights, big city New York, but my New York: a little neighborhood in Brooklyn where space is tight and you make do with what ya got. Scrappy New York! The proud feeling I get when I’m ducking and squeezing into a too-full Subway car or carrying fifteen pounds of groceries seven blocks to my two-story walk-up. When I look at my tree, she says, ‘You did it, girl. You’re here. Now quit lookin’. Don’t you have someplace you gotta be?’
* Seriously, if you know of any cheap, miniature, comfortable sofas, hit me up—the comfortable part is negotiable. We are desperate.