This morning I decided to have my coffee with a gift of Ryze from my bestie. It’s the last day of November and I like to take the time to enjoy the season while decorating. My tree is 10 years old, and I love her. It lived first in my house in the family hangout finished basement, then the playroom turned tween hangout loft, which then became my hangout and retreat, to the new house. Around the time that I got it, we were having a party and friends over to celebrate the season in the finished hangout area. It needed to be narrow and tall. Also about that time, The Skinnygirl brand by Bethenney Frankel was popular. Then the nickname Skinny Bitch was born, cocktails, etc. The tree was then named the Skinny Bitch simply as a descriptor for our two trees.

Back to my morning coffee, I was hanging ornaments and this tree is filled with memories like any other tree. Mine is mostly a coastal tree with family memories. I was hanging a DIY cobalt blue and optic white paint swirl and trying to move the relit tree branches to hang the ornament, and then it fell. I watch it fall in slow motion six feet to the floor, beside my daughter’s bright cheery, yellow step stool, shattering into pieces.

My first reaction was to say the word Impermanence. It’s a stop gap, a tool, an acute prevention, for not reacting. My brother told me about this Buddhist principle years ago and how not to get stuck in the brokenness, imperfection, or loss. Essentially not to react. Not to cry over spilled milk. People and things come into your life for a reason, a season, or a lifetime. How to make it through transitions. See also, E-v-e-ry-t-h-i-n-g happens for a reason. It lives in my toolbox for life. I’ve also taught it to my daughters, to the point that they say it with a smile when something breaks. Now they have another tool in their pink toolboxes.

My girls and I made them one holiday. I am good at creative art. We had so much fun mixing and swirling the paint with a dozen clear ornaments one holiday. Shattered, gone, my favorite of the batch and only one in my ornament box. The memories played on a fast forward reel in my head. Back to Impermanence…it’s ok. Let go

So I picked up the chards of glass and grabbed the vacuum. Snap back to reality, I needed to sweep up the pine needles from last year’s wreaths that I fluffed and take another empty jar for recycling to the curb. To the garage we go, out with the jar, clean up the pine needles, quickly pick up a couple more things. Vacuum the room by the garage and stairs back back up. I hang a couple more ornaments and it’s time for work. I moved through this all before 7 am, but as I write, the emotions are right there, all about a broken ornament.