in the silence

For what seems like years, but has been only six months, Willy and I have lived in our little 31 foot airstream. In a campground, off in "the boondocks” as the locals call it, in Ashland, Oregon. And oh my, what a simple and entirely wild way of living.

Today I undecorated our Christmas tree. Yes, it’s almost February. This was one the first true adult christmas trees I’ve ever had and it was picked out by my little grandma when she was visiting. It’s been up and decorated for over two months. It has endured and thrived through blizzards, sleet, wild winds, heat, and a whole lot of rain. The sheer joy and childlike giddiness I get when driving into our campsite after work, peeping the lights bouncing off the tree, is so comforting. So yeah, I kept it up for longer than most people do, because why the hell not? When I was little I would get so excited when it was time to pick out the tree, the nights that we got to stay up late decorating and drinking hot cocoa by the fire, Michael Buble bouncing off the little walls of our living room. It was pure magic. This year was something extra wonderful, though. So my decision to keep the tree up, longer than is normal perhaps, felt like the most filling bright spot that January would bring me.

I undecorated the tree today and packed dozens of weird, homemade, goofy, broken ornaments into a box to re-donate to goodwill. I thought about hanging onto them just because they had become somewhat sentimental to me, but then I thought about other trees and other little fingers they would pass through and into the box they went. There’s something really exquisite about giving sentimentalities away. It’s interesting, but I suppose not unusual, that humans become attached to material items. And while it can grow to a very rotten place for some, choosing to give those items away presents with a very real feeling of freedom, satisfaction, awe, and wonder at the human race.