Many, many moons ago, mom and dad decided they wanted to up their Christmas decor game a bit. For as far back as I could remember, their decorations did not extend to the outside of the house beyond a wreath on the front door.
They talked about it and decided they'd go and get some net Christmas lights for some of the bushes in the front yard, along with a large lighted wreath they could hang on the front of the house. It was around this time that they started putting up seasonal house flags, so one was bought for the outdoor Christmas decorating as well.
In later years, when my dad started having vision problems and also was having to go to dialysis three times a week, he mentioned to my mom one Christmas how much he appreciated having the lights on the one bush that was on their route from the house to the car, because it helped him see better on those mornings where they had to leave the house before 6 a.m. to get to the dialysis center.
SEE ALSO (VIP): Happily Embracing the Stresses of the Christmas Holiday Season
Mom agreed, liking the idea of having the extra light when they were out so early in the morning. Because of that, the net lights on that bush began being kept on it year-round, so it would be beneficial beyond Christmas. And the neat thing is that we plugged into one of those dusk-to-dawn sensor timer thingies, and we set it so that the lights only come on once it's dark and go off when it gets light.
Though dad is no longer with us, we've kept the lights on that bush, as it is a reminder of days gone by every time we look out the window at night. It's even helped mom and me a few times when we had some early morning doctor appointments.
The net lights have had to be changed out a few times on that bush over the years, and one year, the way the bush grew, I had to actually cut the net light strands out of it around Christmastime because the lights needed to be replaced (no worries, they were unplugged when I did that).
It was kind of an unavoidable situation, as maintaining that bush had been the last thing on my mind that year (it was 2022, the year we lost dad after his health took a downward turn, and then we later found out mom had colon cancer).
For the past year or so, I've contemplated relocating that bush if it could be done as a practical matter. It's surrounded by concrete - a sidewalk from the house to the driveway on one side, and patio concrete around the rest of it, as a result of a "filling in" of a natural area that used to be there.
The idea is that if I could relocate it, I could have that little square patch filled with concrete, which would make it easier for me to back the car closer to the house, to make it easier for mom to get to, and to make it easier for me to get groceries in the house after a big grocery store run.
But a conversation I recently had with mom is having me rethink that idea (an idea I'd never mentioned to her until we had this discussion).
The bush hasn't looked right for the last couple of months or so in comparison to how it has typically looked this time of the year, and we've both speculated that it might be dead. I told her we needed to wait until spring to know for sure, and that if it was indeed dead, we'd have it removed and maybe filled in with concrete so the patio could be used as a driveway extension of sorts if necessary.
She all of a sudden got quiet. I looked at her and asked her what was wrong.
"I'd like another bush planted there if that one has to go," she told me in a tone so soft that I almost didn't hear it. "And we could put some lights on it."
It was then that it hit me. As much sentimental attachment as we both had to that bush (our dear sweet Muffiecat loved to lounge near that bush, too, back in the day), hers was much deeper. There were plenty of early mornings over the time she took dad to dialysis, where it had been their beacon of light, similar to some of the lighthouses that have lit the North Carolina coastline for centuries.
Losing that bush and the lights on it would be like losing one of the few earthly connections she still has to my dad, so there was no way I was going to disagree with her on the suggestion to replace that bush with another one.
Honestly, I hope it's not dead, but if it is, we absolutely will replace it, maybe with something a little different, but which will still bring us both joy and help keep the good memories of my dad close by.
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