Christmas in Ruins; Christmas Reclaimed

            I was knitting a Christmas gift one evening last week, sitting on the couch with the Christmas tree twinkling in its lights at my elbow, when suddenly, with a clatter and a tinkling, the tree came crashing down, spilling water from its stand, breaking class balls, flinging tinsel, and scattering Santa Clauses, reindeer, angels, and snowflakes all over the floor.

          Christmas in ruins.

          Aghast, I jumped up. Stepping carefully over broken glass and delicate ornaments, I pushed the tree upright again, holding it vertical. Then all I could do was stand there, foolishly, wondering what to do, and then even more foolishly, since no one was around, I called out, "Can you help me? Could you bring me some string?" No one answered, of course, so I gently laid the Christmas tree back on the floor, hoping not to lose more ornaments or tangle more tinsel, and went to get string. Then I pushed the tree upright again. It's a good thing the place for the tree is in front of the stairs. I tied it to the railing, then stepped back to assess the situation.

        One Christmas years ago, in the old house, after spending hours putting up and decorating the Christmas tree, I sat next to it to play my guitar. When I had finished playing, I put the guitar back in its case, closed the lid, and walked away, pulling the Christmas tree down as I went. I had caught a limb of the tree in the guitar case.

        That tree had been precariously planted in a bucket of dirt. This one had been put in a Christmas tree stand, which should have made it a lot sturdier, but this tree, as that one, was ultimately balanced with a very large rock. It wasn't that a mischievous Santa's elf had kicked the rock off the stand, but that the mischievous gravity elf, working day and night ("I think I can; I think I can"), had finally succeed in finding the tipping point, and over the tree went.

       I could hear the elf chortling with laughter somewhere up the stairs.

       The force of the fall had pulled the tree out of the prongs that tightened against the trunk. Though now upright again, it was twisted out of its original position. I couldn't get it back into the prongs and twisted right again while it was tied to the railing, nor could I both hold it up and work on its base at the same time. "Can someone help me?"

         No answer.

         I called Mike, who said he would be there the next day. When he arrived, I told him I had been in such a hurry to get the tree upright, as though the longer it lay on the floor the more ornaments would be ruined, I hadn't thought to take a picture. Now I wanted to recreate the scene of the crime for a photograph. We untied the tree from the railing and laid it on the floor again. I scattered the tossed-off ornaments around it and took the broken pieces of glass from the dust bin and laid them strategically among the ornaments. 

After I took pictures, we re-raised the tree, which I held in place while Mike re-secured it in its stand. Then we tied it to the railing, untangled tinsel from branches, carefully removed ornaments that had fallen askew, and redecorated the tree.

            It looks fine now, and is securely in place. Gifts are placed safely under it, and I knit again under the tinsel-twinkling Christmas tree, without fear of disaster from either Santa elf or gravity elf.

            Christmas reclaimed.