Tinsel Mom

         Each Christmas season as I decorate memories swirl . I smile and recall Mom’s excitement when the ornament boxes were carried into the livingroom to be piled high before the bare evergreen tree. As we unpacked and rediscovered each radiant angel, each jolly Santa, each sparkly star, each prancing reindeer, each cute snowman and each tattered, threadbare, faded, paper keepsake we bantered about the tree. For practical and cost-cutting reasons Mom had chosen to keep what I referred to as a ‘fake’ tree and she insisted was an ‘artificial’ tree, a ‘replica.’

         Oh how Mom fussed over the precise angle and position of those wire pseudo branches. She fluffed and coaxed the green limbs to create the base for her glittering collection. Bare patches were not tolerated. She sought a realistic fullness, a green lushness without sticky sap, prickly needles and no unmistakable, fresh scent. Plastic and metal possess their own unique smell. The wannabe evergreen had to appear lifelike yet perfect. Oh, and it had to be sturdy. No one else ever came close to the fantastic number of Mom’s ornaments.

         Before the naked tree could be dressed the tree skirt had to be swathed around the base. It too had to flaunt sharp creases . Mom would not tolerate it being flung to the floor or crumpled in a heap. It could not resemble an abandoned pile of laundry. I still hear my mother’s admonishments that she chided were simply ‘directions.’

         “Remember, don’t place all the angels together. Spread them out. Most of those ornaments are breakable, be careful. Don’t clink them together. Mind that the colours are not bunched. Mix them up. Make a pile of the ones needing repair. Did you plug in the glue gun? Where are the picture ones? I want to see them at the front. Don’t you think you’re hanging some too low? The gifts need to fit down there you know. “

         Despite my years of tutelage and assistance Mom would not hesitate to rehang something or straighten an errant decoration. Not often did I hear a sigh or a ‘tsk’. It was just implied.

         With the tree groaning under the immense weight of festivity, I dreaded the final adornment, Mom’s piece de resistance, tinsel.

         I dislike tinsel. I find it clingy. With little provocation it sticks to my socks, my sleeves, my hair. I see it as shiny, silver nuisance strands . To my taste it reflects over-the-top glitterati. Is this metallic material supposed to represent icicles?

         After each Christmas Mom would gather all the tinsel strands together and pack them away for the next season. Sometimes she would splurge and purchase new tinsel to augment her supply. Heaven forbid she not have tinsel enough for several deserving trees let alone her resplendent one. Her tree simply had to glimmer ,gleam, glitter, glow.

         I dealt with the tinsel by scooping handfuls of it and flinging it at the tree. I did not separate the blobs that formed. I did not attempt any artistry whatsoever. I justified my lack of interest by pointing out that actual icicles form wherever they choose. Most are not convenient or wonderful. They are ice that eventually melts.

         Now I’m not claiming Mom elbowed me away from her Christmas tree, but she did intervene.

         “Really?” she’d exclaim.

         “You know that’s not how it’s done. Here, let me do it. One strand at a time. Drape each one over a branch. Don’t throw it all willy-nilly. See, isn’t it better?”

         Better? Ah, no. I agreed we should disagree.

         Mom has been missing from Christmas for several years now and I decorate my home with a few of her treasures. I cherish the memories of ‘Christmasing’ with her, but I do not regard tinsel with fondness. Imagine my surprise when a single strand of a familiar silver faux ‘icicle’ winked at me from my livingroom floor as I prepared to create my own festive space this year. Where had it come from? Could this be a message from Mom? Could she be poking fun at me and reminding me that my decoration lacked a certain glitter? Could this be tinsel from Heaven? ( 694 words )