Small Then, Small Now — Why We Chose a Little Tree This Year

“Oh! Is that your tree this year?” That’s the reaction we expect when people walk into our dining room this December. My reply: “Yep, that’s the whole tree.” Just one little tabletop evergreen. Simple, subtle and serene—perfect for this season of our lives.

Now before anyone reports us to the Holiday Patrol for not erecting a seven-foot spruce dripping in lights, let me explain. This wasn’t a shortcut. This wasn’t laziness. And it definitely wasn’t a lack of holiday spirit. It was a choice. A good one. A peaceful one. And, honestly, a full-circle moment I didn’t see coming.

Back Then: Small Out of Necessity

When first married, we had exactly three things for Christmas: 1) a tiny apartment; 2) a tinier budget; 3) a tree that could generously be described as…trying its best. You know the kind. The tree that leaned. The tree that shed. The tree that cost $12.99 and proudly looked it. Our ornaments came from the “We Swear This Is Festive” budget section, and we wrapped presents on the living-room floor while eating store-brand cookies. It wasn’t glamorous. It wasn’t Instagram-ready. But it was ours at the time. It felt small but sweet because it had to be.

Middle Years: Big Trees and Holiday Chaos

As life grew, so did our Christmas décor. Bigger home → bigger tree → bigger bins → bigger holiday everything. And right alongside that? My years as a music vendor, where Christmas playlists began sometime around Halloween, sometimes sooner. Imagine decking the halls at home while your brain is still recovering from hearing “Jingle Bell Rock” 400 times a week. It was festive, but also relentlessly cheerful in a way that can only be described as slightly traumatic. These were the years full of friends, family, kids, Santa visits, wrapping-paper tornadoes, and enough cookies to feed a small village. And then there were the toys.

Every parent has faced the deceptively simple toy on Christmas Eve — the one that claims “Easy Assembly!” on the box but requires an engineering degree, a spiritual awakening, and many, many deep breaths and mutters under those breaths confirming “I love my kids. I love my kids.” No matter how carefully you followed the “directions,” there was always one rogue part left over. Always. Our personal holiday nemesis? The tricycle clearly sent by Satan for our past sins.

Picture this: It’s nearly midnight. There are wheels and washers and questionable bolts scattered around the living room. We’re deep into glasses of holiday cheer as I’m cheering on my husband like he’s in the championship round of Holiday Engineering Olympics. With one final heroic attempt at aligning the pedal assembly, he puts it on, which means he, miraculously, pulls it off. Holiday miracles do exist! Those years were noisy, joyful, messy, and wonderful. Chaos and beauty wrapped up with a bow.

This Year: A Different Kind of Holiday

This year, we’re celebrating our “big Christmas” at our kiddo’s house. It’ll be loud and lovely and full of people, just not here. So we paused and asked ourselves: What kind of holiday do we want in our home this year? Just the two of us. No pressure. No performance. No hauling 17 totes out of the garage.

And what we wanted was simple: We wanted calm. We wanted ease. We wanted the glow of the season without the production of the season. So we chose a joyful return to the little tree.

The Beauty of Choosing Small

Our little dining room tree is neutral, natural, and blends into our everyday décor as if it’s always lived there. Greenery, wood tones, a touch of raffia, and a whisper of warm gold. Nothing loud, nothing bright, nothing requiring safety goggles to assemble. Set-up took several minutes. Enjoyment will last all month. No ladder. No wrestling match. No mysterious strand of lights that died in storage. Just a sublimely satisfying tree that fits this season of our lives perfectly.

The Full-Circle Moment

Here’s the part that made me pause: We started our married life with a small tree because that’s all we could afford. Now, decades later, we’ve chosen a small tree because it feels peaceful, intentional, and deeply right. Small used to be necessity. Now it’s elegance. Now it’s more than enough. Funny how life works like that.

What This Little Tree Taught Me

You don’t need “big” to feel festive. Joy doesn’t come from more, it comes from meaning. Décor should fit the season of your life, not the expectations of the world. Sometimes, the quietest décor brings the most comfort. This year, small feels spacious. Small feels beautiful. Small feels like home.

A Question for You

What size of holiday feels right for you this year? Big, small, or somewhere in between — there’s no wrong answer. Just choose the version that makes your home feel like you actually love living there.

Now, what will you do next to love where you live?

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