Little Wooden Horse

And the Christmas tree grew too fast. Perhaps it was because we did not decorate it since we decorated it first. Since Ani climbed on the shaky wooden ladder and placed her wooden horse on the last branch she could reach.

The tree grew strong since then, but grew lonely. It is difficult for a Christmas tree to grow without little wooden horses placed on its branches. Snow is never enough. Snow is to add to the loneliness of Christmas trees.

One morning I noticed that the tree was casting a new shade. Or an old shade in a new spot. One gets familiar with shades when one walks the dog at the same time every evening. Shades become references. Even if they change with the sun and the clouds. References do not need to remain unchanged. They need to be trusted.

And I watched the Christmas tree bend, almost on a daily basis. Soon it looked like an old Armenian woman leaning upon her cane. It was the weight of time. Or perhaps time itself.

And on a sunny fall day, I decided to cut the tree. It is very different cutting a Christmas tree. Especially on a fall day, nearing Christmas. But the tree had grown too fast, and not strong enough. I thought it was because we had not celebrated Christmas since we did last. How could we? Ani was not with us anymore. How can we have Christmas without Ani?

I cut the tree slowly, a branch at a time. It was almost like pruning it, and I could increasingly discover how its top was bent. Like an Armenian woman wearing her widow’s dark clothes. Time gets heavy when one gets old.

Then I brought the shaky ladder. As I was about to cut the last few branches, I found a little wooden horse. Hanging from an inside branch. It was hanging upside down. It was weathered by snow, sun, ice and wind. It was weathered by the hope that it can be a Christmas tree ornament again.

Then I cut the tree. It had grown too fast.

September 10, 2009