The scent of the baked apple my grandmother used to make in Her tiled stove made me feel enchanted. It is undeniably my favorite holiday. A long time ago I talked to someone about having a plastic Christmas tree. They said to avoid all the hassle I will use it too when I get older and my son moves out and I won’t be so attached to the real ones. These words stuck with me. Since that time, when I’m carving the tree, or when I’m cleaning up the pine-needle from the floor, I’m wondering if it was worth  it. Then I think about it and realize, that of course it was worth it! And it always will. I need the smell, the sight, the feeling and it’s energy. I aged, my son moved out, but I still need it. Because there is always someone to do it for. Even if I’m alone. Why couldn’t I enjoy Christmas the same way by myself?

And then I remember my grandmother set up a tree every year till she lived! Maybe only because of us, Her grandchildren, so when we come to Her place, we can feel the true Christmas spirit. But I know it made Her happy too. And I follow her, trying to guard her memory this way.