I put away my Christmas tree today.

It’s an old one, folds up, comes apart in four pieces, no built in lights.

It’s the first one that wasn’t a “real tree” (allergies being what the were to kids growing up) and for most of their lives, it’s been “the tree”.

The tree that held “their ornaments” until it was time to take those with them, and the tree that still holds the baby pictures, drawings, and school Christmas projects.

In the past, I carelessly threw the lights in a jumble into the bags and left it to “next year me” to figure it out.

Not this year.

This year, I carefully bagged the parts of the tree, making sure to bungee cord the branches together neatly.

This year I wrapped the lights carefully, zip-tying them in loops, color coded to the appropriate part of the tree.

As I did, I couldn’t help to think of the carefully placed cords, the perfectly aligned colors, as a meditation and a prayer.

“To whoever sets up this tree next year (I hope it’s me), here it is, it’s set up for you, please take care of it, and the memories it holds.”

… Amen