Oh Christmas Tree

I was watching a Christmas special on HGTV the other day and this woman had collected ornaments for her Christmas tree from all over the world during her travels. The designer, who had a specific theme in mind for the woman's house, looked a little dismayed that she wanted to use them on the tree that she had so specifically planned but she allowed it, because after all, the woman was the client. The tree ended up looking beautiful with the designer's color scheme and the woman's ornaments but most importantly, it evoked an emotional response from the family because the tree represented their lives and memories.

When I was a child, our Christmas tree was not magazine photo-spread worthy by any designer's standards but it was beautiful because it held ornaments that my sister and I had made, our parents had given us, some that we had given them and some from friends. It was eclectic and probably a bit messy, since we girls were allowed to help decorate, and we loved it.

My tree this year is pretty. It isn't big, at only five feet tall, and it isn't overly adorned as I had given away all my Christmas things last year before the holidays, but it works nicely in the corner of my small upstairs den. It's sparsely but elegantly decorated. It has no garland, no tinsel, no ribbons or beads, not even a topper. I've inserted branches of pine cones and berries in among the fir boughs so it has a little more depth and added shiny icicles, sparkling starbusts, jingling miniature wreaths and the classic glass balls. Everything on it is red, green and gold and the lights are white. It's perfectly symmetrical, balanced in it's placement of colors and ornaments and yet...

It's missing the memories. There are no "Remember when..." stories to be told every year as each precious ornament is lifted out of it's storage box and unwrapped. There are no moments of reminiscence and silent thoughts of times and people and events past. There is no exclamation of joy as a favorite ornament is rediscovered each year. 

I love this tree. It has stood beside me over the past month, shedding light over my late night writing, offering solace during multiple bouts of loneliness and welcomed me home after a long day. It's time to love my life again and start bringing home memories to cherish, whether they be in ornament, photograph or some other form. I've had this thought for a long time that my life was "some day" and it isn't. My life is today, whether I think I'm where I want to be or not. Whether I'm with someone or not. I owe myself, and the tree, memories that I will want to keep for years to come.

Faking It

'Tis the season for holiday parties and concerts and plays and I couldn't feel less like participating. If I had my way, I would go to bed right now and hibernate until the spring thaw. I'm not sure what's wrong, if it's emotional or physical, but I'm exhausted and sad and a little cranky. 

I'm not hibernating, however. I am forcing myself to go and do, see and be seen, even if it hurts and even if I have to leave to find a place where I can fall apart and even if I can't get through the day without yawns so big they threaten to unhinge my jaw. Part of me wonders if I'm doing the right thing, pushing myself, but I know sitting at home and moping isn't helping anything. 

I'm doing things because I think I should, not because I want to. Or I know that once I go I'll have a good time and I could really use some good times. I miss my friends, old and new, and sitting at home grieving over being alone isn't a productive use of time. 

So I continue to schedule events I don't want to attend and smile my way through times when I don't feel it. Sometimes I get lucky and fake my way right into joy. Those times are precious. Those times are what I cling to when I'm falling apart. Those are the times that let me know I'm going to be just fine. 

'Tis just the season. 

Labor Day

I hope all my American and Canadian friends had a wonderful holiday weekend. Mine was full of laughs, sun, music, good people and one large, lovable dog. I had time to chat with friends, catch up with family and take care of myself a bit, too. And the house got the deep cleaning it was desperately needing.

It was a very good weekend.

Holiday Weekend

After work on Friday, I caught the train to Chicago for the long weekend. As I suspected, I was not the only one with this idea as the train was completely sold out. A good number of Cardinals fans from St. Louis as well as Blackhawks fans from all over were aboard, headed into the city for a weekend of sports mania. Other than a few interesting drunken outbursts by a couple of them, it was a pretty standard journey.

Normally Canal Street is lined with taxis just waiting for people to spill out of Union Station and into their waiting back seats. Not so after 9 p.m. I, along with several other people, had to stand on the curb, arms outstretched, waiting for one of the dozens of taxis driving by to stop. As dumb as it sounds, I enjoyed it. That is one little slice of urban living I never get to experience in daily life. 

After checking into the hotel, ordering room service and unpacking, I enjoyed a quiet night of reading and thinking. I slept pretty well, if not long enough. I woke in darkness and sat for hours on the chaise lounge in front of the window, watching Chicago wake up. Everything was shrouded in dark shadows and blankets of gray and then as the sun rose, color was painted onto everything in vibrant hues. I love Chicago in the morning.

I spent the morning reading and writing and then headed just across the river to see the Memorial Day Parade. The weather could not have been more perfect. The sun was bright and only too warm if you had to stand in it for quite a while. I found a great parade-watching spot at the corner of State and Lake, the parade's starting point, which gave me the opportunity to alternate standing in the sun and under the El tracks to cool down. 

The parade was an amazing two hours of emotions. The number of veterans and young recruits, heroes of yesterday and today, surrounded and serenaded by dozens of marching bands playing military hymns was humbling. People on the sidelines watched and cheered, waved flags and shouted greetings, swollen with pride and patriotism. It was a fleeting moment of unity in an otherwise disparate world. I hope to experience it again.

Sunday was a day of reflection and soul-searching and writing. Fortunately, just when I was feeling completely bogged down in the mire of uncertainty and questioning that plagues times like those, I was due to arrive at the theater for a matinee of The 39 Steps. It was exactly what I needed. Completely entertaining, engrossing and engaging, it was a comical, lighthearted spoof that showcased everything magical about live performances. I left impressed and feeling more positive than I had all day.

When Monday morning came, I was not ready to come home because I never feel more at home than I do in Chicago. But normal life must be dealt with and I made my way to the station to catch the first train back. The car was nearly half-empty that early in the morning. To keep my mind busy and away from thoughts of the last time I traveled home on that train I daydreamed of the next time I could visit Chicago. I am already anxious to return. But isn't that how we all feel about home? 

My Trip to the UK

The Firsts 

• Flying Alone I managed to maneuver my way through four airports, four security checks and one customs stop on the way over and four airports (one was different this time), four security checks, one customs stop, and two baggage claims on the way back. I even threw in an extra country visit on the way home, too. And you know what? I did it. I had to rely on the kindness of strangers from time to time (the custodian who guided me through the mess that is Newark's airport, the woman who saved me a seat in the crowded waiting area while I ran to the bathroom in Chicago's O'Hare, and the airport security guard who translated for me in Amsterdam) but I did it. The amount of stress in traveling alone can be incredible but the feeling of independence and self-satisfaction is also.
• Leaving the Country I had never been outside the U.S. before this trip, not even to Mexico, which is practically the U.S.'s community pool. I was excited to see the UK before I left and if anything, even more delighted when I got there. The architecture and the countryside and the traffic and culture and the people... it was a feast for my senses. I wanted to look and touch and hear everything. We packed a lot into our week but I still left craving more.
• Foods  A potato is just a potato, right? No. Real English chips are a treat unlike anything you can find in the U.S. I was also treated to a proper English cream tea (scones with butter, jam and clotted cream! served with amazing tea), sticky toffee pudding with custard and a Cornish pasty... but not in the same day, of course. I loved the local specialities and I loved the traditions behind them.

The History

• Specifically We toured Westminster Cathedral, Bristol Cathedral, St. Paul's Cathedral, the Tower of London, the SS Great Britain, the Roman ruins, and the home of William Shakespeare. We saw Parliament, the River Thames and Big Ben. All of them were impressive, awesome, humbling.
• Generally But even more striking to me was the overwhelming feeling of permanence and solidity and grandeur that is amassed by a country that has been around for so many hundreds of years. To walk on cobblestone streets that Shakespeare had once trod or to stand in the shell of what remains of a bunker that once housed ancient Roman soldiers, you cannot put into words the feeling that overcomes you. Only in England could I actually see the interwoven human chain of all the generations that have come before and all those that will follow. It made me realize just how fleeting our time here is and yet how vitally important that we use it to the best of our abilities.

The Highlights

• Shakespeare Seeing Shakespeare performed in an English theatre by English actors was one of the best nights I have ever had. I am sure I have never been better entertained. It was a magnificent time. 
• Cary Grant  I was able to see and hug the bronze, life-sized statue of Cary Grant in Millennium Park in Bristol. I know he was just a man, just an actor, but I still have an enormous amount of respect and love for his talent and his kind heart. His films have become friends to me and it meant so much to pay even that small tribute to him. I am still trembling inside.
• Weather We always think of England of being under a perpetual rain cloud but the weather was beautiful that week. It drizzled only a few minutes on Wednesday and then rained most of the day on the Saturday before I left but other than that, it was perfect. The temperature was mild, the skies blue, and the breezes moderate. We were able to hike through the Cotswolds and Wales and around London and Bristol without a problem. I am so thankful.
• Rugby And speaking of rain on Saturday, it did not matter a bit because we had an entire day of rugby to watch! I cannot believe how hard I fell for this sport but I did. The Six Nations tournament was just winding up my last weekend there so I was able to see all six teams in action and I loved every minute. An unexpected joy, to be sure.

There are dozens of other aspects of the trip and many, many more things that we saw and toured and experienced but I will leave those tucked away in my memory as my own special treasures. I had debated even writing this post, given that it has been two and a half weeks since I returned home, but I wanted to reflect on a few of the feelings I had that week so I could always come back here and relive them. Overall, I want to remember the feeling of comfort I had while there. I am sure I have not felt more at ease or more at home in a new environment ever before. It felt as though the city of Bristol, and the country itself, embraced me.

I cannot wait to return.