My husband walked from High Park Avenue to Dundas Street West, where there was a Towers department store. In those days, Towers was the only store that opened until 10 p.m. The store was closing and the few remaining sales people were preparing for Boxing Day sale. He asked them if he could purchase a Christmas tree but was told that they were all sold out.

Suddenly he saw a small tree in a corner, wearily blinking: on, off, on, off. It was cheaply decorated and looked rather tired. He asked if he could purchase it but found out that it had been part of the store decorations and was destined for the trash. My husband offered them $10 for the tree as is and the deal was made.

He unplugged the tree and holding the plug in one hand and the tree in the other, he walked along Bloor Street, slipping and sliding all the way. Every now and then one of the glass ornaments would crash to the ground and shatter like an egg. When he got home there were no more than a dozen balls left on that little tree. He then plugged it in and it started to blink once again: on, off, on, off. Over the years my daughter - the expected baby from 1969 - and I have made many hand-crafted ornaments for that little tree.

Today is December 15th, 2009 and I am alone now but I have just put up that little tree and in a second it brought back memories of my first Christmas in Toronto. The little lights are blinking: on, off, on, off. And I remember an old Nat King Cole song about an unwanted little Christmas tree:

Little Christmas Tree

No one to buy you, give yourself to me

You're worth your weight in precious gold, you see