I jumped out of my car, anxious to be back after the car ride from Cincinnati. It was Thanksgiving weekend and I had just spent time at home with my family and my girlfriend's family. It was a wonderful time but, in true American tradition, the Thanksgiving holiday had already passed from my mind. A new fever had taken hold: the artificial tree in the back of the car.
Forgoing my book bag and most of my luggage, I grabbed the box from the car and jogged as quickly as I could to the door. I threw it open, calling for Leah as I stumped up the stairs with the tree.
I gave Leah a kiss hello and dropped the tree in our small living room. Scoops, our mischievous young cat, rolled over on his back and meowed at me to say hi. I ruffled his belly as I sat down next to the box and excitedly ripped it open.
I have always loved Christmastime, have always loved being a part of the annual ritual of putting decorations up with the family. This year, my first year living with Leah, was going to be the most exciting Christmas yet. The tow of us and Scoops in our cold little apartment in small-town Ohio were sharing our first holiday season together.
The other decorations we have put up have been turned into objects of amusement, too: I am convinced that Scoops' mission is to spread Christmas cheer to every corner of the apartment by putting items in every room.
I think I'll buy him a sweater or something. And in the meantime, I'll enjoy the glow of the lights as I watch Glee or play video games next to my girl. This season is something that has always meant a lot to me, and I'm so glad we get to share it together. Ornaments or no ornaments.
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