Already Merry

Our tree is up.

Christmas is more than a month away, it's 70 degrees and sunny, the yard is still full of leaves and a stray Halloween ghost that I haven't bothered to snag from an upper branch of the maple, and our Christmas tree is up.

I blame my mother.

Because I spent my entire childhood decorating the Christmas tree on the day after Thanksgiving, putting the tree up that early is one of our few irrational, inviolate holiday traditions. Our moods and our schedules don't matter at all; the calendar leads and we follow. For a week or so, that tree will surprise me every time I walk into the living room, some alien evergreen that's landed in the wrong season.

Why bother? My daughter is already indoctrinated; it's her tradition, her memories we're making now. Better to go along and listen to her sing Jingle Bells than create the memory of The Year Christmas Was Late and It Was All Mom's Fault.

Thanksgiving is over. The tree goes up. That's what we do.