Putting up the tree the day after Thanksgiving is a tradition in my family. We crank up the Christmas music, put up the tree, string the lights and then the real fun begins--putting on the ornaments. We buy one ornament per child each year plus they usually make one and we get one as a family for each place we visit.

We unpack each ornament carefully. "This is the ornament you made when you were 3." "Oh this one we got you for your first Christmas. Weren't you an adorable baby?" "When did we get this one, Mommy." "Oh we got that the year Daddy and I got married." "That one was when we moved into our new house." We go through the ornaments one at a time and tell stories about that time in our lives. Those are precious moments for me--moments when family history is built and passed on. It's one of the things I missed most last year--our first Bajan Christmas.

Yesterday we put up the tree. We only had one little box to unpack, but the magic was still inside. "I remember when we made the paper chain. My part was so LONG" "Who sent us the little Santa Claus?" "That's from Heather, my friend from North Carolina." "My pipe cleaner candy cane is so pretty" "The snow shoes that say "Alaska," are from your friend at the North Pole, right?" "I like the little crane with the bell--who made that one?" "Oh that's from my friend Kirsten who lives near Washington, D.C." And on it went.

Our little 5 foot tree is standing by the back grill so you can see the green grass and tropical bushes in the back garden--but it feels like Christmas just the same.