Beauty is in the Eye of the Beholder

I look forward to it every year. The dazzling lights, the memories it brings. Nothing compares to the beauty of my tree. It's the same every year, a small plastic tree, no taller then a fourth grader. We can never buy a real tree because of my family's allergies, but I like it that way. I never have to watch a perfect tree get shredded into smithereens, I only have to pack it up and say "Goodbye till next year."

It pales in comparison to the elegant trees in fancy hotel, or even my neighbors, but it's wonderful in it's own way. My tree has bendable branches, that my siblings and I would maneuver so it could house our nativity. The branches tend to bend downwards, due to the overwhelming amount of ornaments we pile on it.

Some years we put a toy train set under it that my grandparents gifted to my family when I was very young. But, my parents didn't want us to believe in him, hence the reason it made a seldom appearance.

My tree may be shedding, it's tree skirt may be worn, and it's ornaments may be mis-matched and tacky. But nothing compares to the beauty of my tree.