Even if I knew that tomorrow the world would go to pieces, I would still plant my apple tree.

Martin Luther

My sister has already put up her Christmas tree, which reminds me of my Mom. She would get the tree up early so she could take it down the day after Christmas without remorse. I, on the other hand, will be lucky if I have my tree up by mid-December because I don’t take it down until my daughter’s birthday in mid-January. While we keep our own traditions, we do share memories. So when my sister posted a video of this year’s Christmas tree with the snowman ornaments our Mom created, it stirred a memory.

After Mom determined that we kids were all “grown-up” enough, she ditched the nostalgic child-crafted-ornament Christmas decor for themed trees. Each beautiful, we had a blue and silver themed tree, snowflake themed, all red themed, the list went on and on. However, one Christmas I came home from college to find she had planned a red Christmas apple-themed tree. These tiny apples were carefully spaced around the tree and she had taken a metallic marker and written names on each one. Of course, every member of the family had an apple, so there were six right there. Then the pets had apples of their own, too. So that’s two more. Still, it was pretty obvious to me that there were way more apples on the tree. Hmmm. Who else did she add?

Turns out that she added my brothers’ high school girlfriends’ names to the tree. So, that’s what we’re doing now? I had no beau at the time and found this to be quite unjust and obviously spoke out about it. Mom laughed at me and told me I could add my boyfriend’s name to the tree…all the while knowing I had no boyfriend. In recalling all this, I guess you could say I was in a “Grinchy” state of mind and immediately set out to rectify the situation. In metallic pen, I wrote KEANU and placed my apple at the front of the tree.

So I chuckle a little every time the movies Speed, The Matrix, and John Wick come across my television screen. I think my Mom would laugh (at me), too. So many great Christmas memories and I wouldn’t trade a single one.

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Empty Chairs, Everywhere is a personal grief diary as I process the loss of my Mother to COVID-19.