I can't decide whether it's sadder as a 46-year-old single man to put up a Christmas tree for the holidays or if it's sadder not to. It helps me think of it like a headline onion: The sad man sets up the Christmas tree and the places he has for himself underneath, or the single man 'needs time to work on himself' who is now about to retire.
My neighbor across the street puts up a huge Christmas display every year, complete with a bright red 1950s pickup truck parked in the yard with a tree in the bed and a grumpy figure on the hood. There’s a bright baby in a manger with a few bales of hay and a series of other glowing figures checking on the baby, plus what looks like a bright sheep. There’s a 4-foot tall illuminated Santa Claus and similarly a snowman and a Nutcracker soldier and another 4-foot tall Santa Claus.
The whole house and every tree and railing and gutter is covered in colorful lights and dazzling brightness that seeps through the curtains of my house as if a rainbow is knocking at the door every evening. I don’t mind it. But the contrast it sets feels like an accusation. Every night, their house is lit up like a real landing strip for reindeer in the North Pole. And then there’s my house, tightly wrapped in darkness, not even visible.
The problem is, I love Christmas. I’m not a scrooge or a grump. I love the colorful decorations, the excessive lights, ready to pay the soaring electric bills to bring a little cheer. I love seeing family and friends, and I love giving and receiving gifts. I love eating too much and feeling good about it. It always makes my mom happy when I overeat.
Only once while living alone did I decorate, and that was because I was in a relationship and it seemed like a fun thing to imagine what a little life together would be like. It wasn’t anything excessive. A few gifts under the tree. A string of lights. A few stray ornaments. And she was one of those rare people who lit up a room as much as they did your life. The kind of person everyone wanted to gather around. A woman who might be the reason I finally got invited to parties and dinner gatherings. But it ended, and the tree soon dried up and died. Inside…