Before it was Our Bedroom

This was the room where everyone gathered. And this is where my earliest memories of the home most reside. Every Christmas Eve, my brother, sister, parents, cousins, aunts & uncles would huddle in, ‘The Christmas Tree Room’ as we called it. Wrapping paper strewn about and heaps & heaps of presents to be opened. I remember real wooden baby doll chairs & cribs, art supplies, clothes & board games piling up beside me as I unopened each gift. My grandmother’s passion for shopping gave her the eye for the perfect presents for us kids.

What I remember most about the room itself was the large stand that elevated the Christmas tree up nearly to the 11 foot ceiling. Being the talented artist that she was, my grandma made the stand from a hollowed out tree stump in which she polyurethaned & decorated its entirety with a beautifully elaborate portrayal of the nativity scene including hand painted figurines, animals & shrubbery.  As the years progressed, it became even more expansive. “It looks like baby Jesus is having a rock concert” my dad joked, pointing at all of the added statues positioned just right, gazing up at the manger.

I’m thankful for those evenings. Those blustery cold Christmas Eves held its own sense of magic for me, a kind of wonderment that is only felt most purely when you’re a child. I look back longingly at this. It was in that room in which we gathered together as a family.

As we all grew older, that tradition dissolved into our memories. As if it were the ending of a story, the book was clamped shut, never to be returned to again. No one was allowed inside the house for over 10 years. The hoarding grew worse & became increasingly unmanageable until we all finally saw the state of the home after my grandpa passed away & we went inside.

I never would have thought in a million years that the “Christmas Tree Room” would someday be my husband & I’s bedroom & that I’d be living in the home which encapsulates those faded childhood memories.