Not Perfect, But Right

I admit it. I become way too emotionally attached to inanimate objects.

The latest? My Christmas tree.

I knew I wanted it when I saw it. It was so skinny. It wasn't perfect. But it was adorable. When I brought it out of the dim light that the tree tent provided and into the real light, I could see that it had a bare spot on its side. In fact, it looked a little ragged. But I still wanted it. I wanted it even more because I knew that no one else would want it. I mean, I saw the other trees that people were picking--tall, sturdy, voluptuous trees--trees with no bare spots. I even heard someone say to a different customer, "good choice, you picked a great one--no holes in this one."

I saw my little tree standing in line, (okay, being held up by a person) waiting to be bagged in mesh-y stuff. It looked so tiny and frail--and I am telling you, I seriously felt protective of my tree. I was so glad that I was going to be able to take it home and give it a home. I wanted it to feel special. (I know I know, it doesn't have feelings. But can you really be sure..) I wanted to tell my tree that it would no longer be just another tree (and a scrawny one at that) in a tent of large, perfect, fluffy trees. I wanted to reassure it that it was going to have a real home. 

There are enough people who want the beautiful trees. I wanted the tree that no one else was going to pick.