My mind drowned out the sounds of placating assistance that meant well and focused on something mundane – Christmas. It was three weeks away and I understood my awakening. Christmas was Tina’s favourite time of the year – she was just like a child as soon as carols came on in the shopping centre and tinsel went on sale in the supermarket.
My mind flashed to a Christmas Tree she bought one year – it was only about three feet tall and it was the first one we had together after she moved in with me…before we even married. She had bought it from an old people’s home that had recently closed down and was liquidating everything.
That little Christmas Tree…I loved it so much. The look of complete happiness on her face when she set it up was priceless – that was my Christmas gift right there!
The tree smelled like:
Old people.
Blue rinse.
Smoking cigarettes down to the filter.
It smelled of desperation, hopelessness and loneliness.
It smelled of abandonment, of neglect, of no visits from family.
It reeked of soft-boiled food, pureed mince beef and lukewarm tea.
It smelled of bedsores and Parkinson’s, of Alzheimer’s and strokes.
It smelled of adult diapers, out of date clothing, commodes, bed-pans and reading lamps.
It stunk of stale cigarettes, out-of-tune pianos and off-key singing.
It had the aroma of a scrabble set missing a “W”.
The smell of cynicism, weariness and jealousy emanated from it in a funk that was almost visible.
I sensed every one of these things as I looked at this little tree – but Tina saw it’s new life. She saw that it was our first tree together and she saw that it had been reborn into our relationship. Her complete happiness with it cemented my love for her right then.
Writing Crash Page 16