The Joys of a Small Christmas Tree
This was the first year since 2019 that I put up a Christmas tree. In 2020, of course, the world ravaged by Covid, I skipped what a former boyfriend once called my “pagan ritual.” I found myself in a new apartment after my New York City landlord raised the rent over 30%. Yes, in the middle of the crisis, as the City was losing 1,000 people a day, the building’s owner sent me an email: “It has been a tough year for landlords.” Truly, shame on them. In a new place — one with half the space — I wasn’t in much of a holiday mood.
In 2021, on the day I was headed out to buy a newly chopped pagan bush from a street vendor, Omicron came. And I landed in bed — no freestanding fir, no ornaments, no lights. Just bottles of yellow Gatorade, hours of sleep, and piles of books. The holiday spirit, doing its very best to live anew before winter truly set in, couldn’t win against the variant.
This year, I was intent on bringing Christmas inside this little one-bedroom on Seventh Avenue. My sister and brother-in-law offered a small pencil tree from their attic — a plastic piece of decor, left over from a cousin’s Christmas-themed wedding years prior. They gladly donated it to the cause. And we gladly accepted.
It took about 12 minutes to set up and decorate. It stands about four feet tall, maybe a foot wide. Surprisingly it takes two set of lights…
