One Thursday two years ago December, my family gathered at my mom’s house to decorate the Christmas tree. Mom was concerned my sister and I wouldn’t be happy that she and my youngest sister had gotten a different type of tree from the live ones we usually buy, but we were fine with it. The tree looked pretty, as ours always have in previous years.
It turned out Mom was the only one who had trouble with the tree. She’s apparently really allergic to Scotch Pines, so Wednesday night we had the second quickest ornament and tree removal ever for our family.
As misfortune would seem her lot, my mom exchanged the Scotch Pine for another tree at the same lot where we’d gone every year we’ve lived in Richmond, put it in the tree stand that evening with some sugar water, and by 1:00am, she was having trouble breathing. She threw a coat on over her pajamas and dragged the thing out the front door and tossed it on the lawn, where it remained for quite some time.
The next day Mom got an artificial tree, which we would consider almost sacrilegious if my poor mom weren’t so allergic to all of the live ones she’d come across that year. I hassled my mom, saying that she was going a bit far claiming to be allergic to two different trees, so she could get an artificial one and put all of the decorations on herself.
My mom is all about family togetherness, having fun decorating, and festivity, which of course, meant when we were growing up we were not only allowed, but also encouraged to put all of our homemade decorations wherever we wanted on the tree, so my claim was completely bogus, and we all knew it.