The Family - Witness

"Oh tree, how you sway." Oh how I am reminded of our first. A quaint little tree, small enough for Snake to carry over his shoulder. Our first home was in a humble but comfortable state. Floors and walls bare, bedding of straw and hay rather than the fine silks and worked hides of today. That tree found a home in an old pot beside our marriage bed. In the hustle of those early days, we were rarely home. We traveled hand-in-hand, as we do now when chance arises, wide-eyed witnesses to the wide world and what it could offer. Each winter, Snake would haul the tree out from storage and fit it to the pot. As it was taken from the woods, it eventually dried and withered away. A mistake on our part, not that of the tree. Though it had fewer needles each year, that tree always greeted us as old friends and eagerly stood watch over the Saturalia festivities. If I recall, we didn't even decorate it. Just some flowers around the base of it to hide dirt and root.

Now, some good years later, another tree stands in another house, yet the family before it is mostly the same. Perhaps a bit larger and perhaps larger still to be, but the same. Oh tree. You were raised from a sapling, knowing not the thirst of drought nor the cold of the woods. A life not filled with the gentle words of a mother, songs of a father, merriment of children. Not even the nakedness of your forebears. I would sing or speak to you as I cleared dust from your needles or poured fresh water upon your roots. You see our little ones crawl and race, their games unending. You grew tall alongside them. You see Snake and the strength he brings, how the household rests on his back. Now as I hang the final ornament from your sturdy branch, hardly a day has passed that your needles have gone unadorned by string, tiny banner or shimmering trinket. You lived as a king among trees, and now you stands tall enough to carry the visage of Mara as your crown. On this day, you act as her emissary. From top to bottom, you were adorned in an ever-growing assortment of ornaments, lamps, fire-fly jars and baubles. In this warm home, before this tree, Saturalia begins and ends. Gifts were given, laughs and smiles abound. We had our feast and rest, music and stories. Content by the flicker of the fireplace and under the shadow of our lordly tree.