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It's nothing new to say that the festive season, with all its cosiness and the annual surprise of the first blasts of frost, has a particular magic that weaves its way into our houses. There's a silent call to surrender to the darker days and cold air, and seek out the comforting annual rituals that signal the start of one of the most exciting moments of the year: Christmas and the inevitable, delightful ritual of sorting through decorations you've not seen in 11 months. It can often be a daunting task — depending on how particular I was about putting things away the previous year (I always hope I did myself a favour by neatly coiling the wires of the fairy lights) — but it’s always a pleasure as it's a journey through memories and nostalgia. It's like stepping back into a cherished childhood, or at least the cherished memories I keep of my children’s childhood, with a few sprinklings of my own.
There are boxes bursting with decorations, each one holding its own story. The first box holds the familiar sight of a handful of delicate glass ornaments that my mother meticulously collected over the years. They shimmer in the light, their colours vibrant yet softened by time. Each one feels like a touchstone, grounding me in moments spent together, decorating the family tree with laughter and stories shared and they perfectly epitomise the unique nostalgia that Christmas can revive.
It happens each and every December — especially as the memory of her takes a step further away with each passing year. It’s why certain decorations and keepsakes are so hard to let go of and especially important to keep. There is nothing better at this time of year to have hanging on your tree than authentic, nostalgic decorations. Every time I first open the box, I recall those evenings spent sipping hot cocoa (made with chocolate originating from her family’s very own cocoa beans in their Caribbean garden), as my mother’s voice patiently guided me through the art of ornament placement while she recited the same Brer Anansi stories that I heard year after year.
The best decorated trees tell a story, and each ornament on ours is a chapter from that story; the antique chandelier droplets that came from the discarded light we found in the basement the day we moved into our present home, the tiny silver bell bought in an East Sussex tourist shop from the year we spent in between homes, having already sold our London house yet apprehensively waiting for completion on our ‘new’ house in the country. Naively painted stars and decorations from the children’s primary school days are the type of papier-mâché peculiarity that caused a slight wince of jovial horror at the time, but that now take pride of place long since they've moved out of home. The colours may have faded but their significance and place in our life remains, always eliciting a giggle as we unearth them each year. The tactile nature of the decorations — the soft, crinkled paper, the uneven clay, the rough twine — connects me to those simpler times, reminding me of the creativity and effort poured into every detail.
Sorting through these treasures becomes a meditation and a chance to relive entire chapters and moments of a shared life. The joy of sorting is not just in the objects themselves but in the memories they evoke and it truly doesn't matter what other people think of them. Each piece carries whispers of the past and a hope that mine and my mother’s rituals may pass down to the children as they establish homes and create memories of their own. There’s a bittersweet feeling that accompanies this joy too, knowing that the spirit of those we’ve lost lingers in our traditions, weaving their essence into the fabric of our celebrations.
Of course, it’s not all about old decorations. I’m a fan of the new too, and each year as I arrange the decorations, I’m struck by the evolution of my own style. I remember the seemingly ‘cool’ but gaudy, mismatched ornaments of my early adulthood, a reflection of a time when I was still figuring out who I was and how I wanted my home to feel. Now, with an empty nest and a more curated approach, I find joy in the balance between old and new, combining heirlooms with modern touches to create a space that feels authentically me—a blend of cherished memories and fresh perspectives.
Every ornament hung, every garland draped, and every twinkling light strung does more than just decorate – it creates a warm, inviting atmosphere, not just for myself but for the loved ones who will gather in my home. There’s a unique joy in sharing these moments with family and friends, each decoration serving as an invitation to relive the stories they represent. In this cosy embrace of nostalgia, there is a sense of comfort in knowing that no matter how much time passes, and no matter how entangled and overflowing my decorations become, the spirit of Christmas lives on in every ornament.
