The Dawn Tree

My daughter Imogen pushes the large cardboard box marked Christmas decorations, across the carpet towards the naked tree. Charlotte and Gemma-Rose appear, and the three girls take turns dipping into the box.

I close my book and reach for my camera. It’s my job to capture the decorating of our 2020 Christmas tree.

After only a couple of minutes, I start complaining: “I can’t get the settings right. I wish Sophie were here. She’d tell me what to do.”

A few months ago, my 19-year-old daughter left home. She’s not here to give me camera setting suggestions. She’s not saying to her sisters, “Hold out a handful of baubles. Wrap the tinsel around your neck like a scarf. Give me a silly Christmas smile!” This year, we’re on our own. And somehow the magic isn’t flowing. The girls are working in silence while I click and adjust, click and adjust. No giggles. Photos without sparkle.

Soon, I’ve had enough. I drop my camera onto the sofa and throw myself next to it. I return to my book.

When I next glance up, the girls are pushing the empty cardboard box back towards the garage.

” What do you think, Mum? Do you like our tree?”

Each Christmas light glows white; the tinsel sparkles pale; the shy baubles refuse to stand out.

” It doesn’t look very exciting,” I say. “There’s not much colour.”

“We thought we’d do things differently this year.” My girls look from the tree to unhappy me before adding, “We think the tree looks okay.”

But I don’t. I want our regular cheerful tree.

And I want Sophie here. And while I’m complaining: I don’t want a covid Christmas with restricted Masses without singing.

I want things to be as they were before.

The morning after tree-decorating day, I get up a little after 5 o’clock, just as the sun is rising over the gum trees surrounding our village. After making some tea, I carry my mug to the living room. I place it on the coffee table before bending down to plug in the lights. Then I turn towards the tree and stand still in silence. In the semidarkness, our Christmas tree is sparkling like a diamond.

I was wrong: my girls decorated our Christmas tree beautifully. The tree is magnificently magical. It’s a dawn tree that comes alive in the early morning light.

In the quiet of the morning, just after dawn, the light glows gently from a hundred Christmas lights, drawing my eyes, stirring my heart, reminding me to look for hidden delights: diamonds hiding in the shadows of life.