I dedicate this post to Molly Sanchez Mortensen

I love Christmas trees. All of them. I love all of them. But I especially love my own. I love it because I've had it for umpteen years. I love the memories of this tree in my apartment in Provo, in my bedroom in Taylor, in my living room here in Mesa. I love that the star on the top of my tree was made by my brother Kirk when he was in high school wood shop for Benjamin #1. I love the clear balls that I stuffed with potpourri with my own bare hands almost fifteen years ago (they're sorta moldy now, but I still use them because I love them so much). I love the random ornaments that were gifts from some of my best friends, friends who know what colors and textures are my favorites. I love the cranberry colored wooden bead garland. I love the fake presents under my tree, fake presents I've been using since I can't even remember when, because I think a tree without presents looks sad and barren (and I don't have kids to get into them, so I can decorate however the heck I want). I love the berry picks and the crocheted snowflakes and the homemade ornaments and the bells that have real, actual clappers in them, and I love the lights.

I love the lights especially, because they always remind me of Molly. (Those of you who were lucky enough to be in the BYU 3rd Ward should remember Molly. She was delightful. Molly was a joy and a pleasure. She was, truly, one of the sweetest and most genuine people I've ever known.) The year that Julie and I lived in The Pink House (capitalized, because it was a proper noun - a living thing with a personality of its very own), we had a Christmas party complete with homemade egg nog and caroling in the neighborhood. Molly came with her husband (she'd gotten married that year and left the ward) and we were SO HAPPY to see her again. We were talking in the front room, by the tree and Molly was staring, mesmerized, into the tree (we were on Ben #2, maybe Ben #3 by then) and she pointed at a light bulb and said "this one is you". Molly told me that when she looks at a Christmas tree, and all of the many lights that shine on the ornaments and make everything sparkley and beautiful, she thinks of the people in her life that do that for her - and that she liked to give the bulbs a name, to help her remember the people she loved.

Every year since that year - every year - I've thought of Molly as I put the lights on the tree. I love her. To say that in the present sense sounds a little silly, since I haven't seen her since 1997, but I love her. She changed me. She made me a better, kinder and happier person. She was one of those friends who come into your life and leave you better.

And this light is hers.



Merry Christmas, Molly, wherever you are. For me, you'll always be a light on my tree.