Once Upon a Tree

27th December 2024

This post is a part of 'Celebrate and Reflect Blog Hop' hosted by Manali Desai and Sukaina Majeed under #EveryConversationMatters

Once upon a time—not in a faraway kingdom, but in a small, cozy home—a little girl sat with her mother and sister every December, stitching stockings.

Christmas in their home wasn’t about fancy gifts or feasts. It was about traditions. Writing letters to Santa wasn’t just about making a wish; it was about thanking him for the year that had passed. The tree wasn’t grand—it was small and beautiful.

The highlight of her Christmas was always the books under the tree. For that girl books were her best friend and nothing beat the joy of flipping through fresh pages. She hoped to always keep this magic alive.

But, as life often does, things changed. Marriage brought her into a home where Christmas wasn’t celebrated the same way. There were no stockings, no tree, no letters to Santa, no books. At first, she brushed it off. Traditions, she told herself, were for kids. But deep down, she missed them.

Then, November 2023 happened.

It was the day her son was born and the day she became a cancer warrior. Funny how she earned these two titles together.

It was overwhelming. Exhausting. And yes, there were moments she wanted to fall apart.

Then one evening, her husband came home with a Christmas tree and a box of ornaments.

“I got you a surprise,” he said, placing it gently in front of her.

And just like that, her world shifted. The love of her husband warmed her heart. It wasn’t about the tree—it was about what it represented. For years, she’d told herself she was okay without traditions. But sitting there, staring at that little tree, she realized how much she needed this. A reason to smile. A reason to feel normal again.

With an emotional heart, she decorated the tree. For her, that tree wasn’t just a symbol of Christmas; it was a promise. A promise to fight, to hope, to create memories even in the chaos.

Fast forward to December 2024. Her little boy—now a toddler—is busy “decorating” the tree by moving ornaments under the tree. She lets him, because isn’t that what life is? A little messy but still beautiful?

Looking back at the year, she doesn’t see “good”, “bad” or “ugly.” She sees moments—some that made her laugh, others that tested her strength. But every moment added to the person she’s becoming.

I was that little girl who stitched stockings. I was the new mom who earned the two titles. And I’m the wife, the woman, who smiles every time she sees her tree because it reminds her that there is love even in the darkest winters.

My journey of 2024 may not look perfect to you, but perfection is boring anyway. It’s been a year of messy, beautiful moments that I wouldn’t trade for anything; my husband’s love, my son’s laughter, my sister’s prayers, my parents’ blessings, my friends’ hugs.

This Christmas, as my son’s laughter fills the air, I’m reminded of the lesson I learned. Life isn’t about waiting for the storm to pass; it’s about finding joy in the middle of it. So here’s to gratitude, resilience, and a little boy who thinks all the ornaments belong under the tree.

And to you, dear reader: May your Christmas and New Year be magical, and full of love—just like life itself.

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