December 16, 2015
When I lift an ornament from its box or niche to decorate my Christmas tree, almost every one carries a special memory:
the ornaments given to me by my Mother from my childhood trees, some going back to when I was six or seven;
the glass balls, red and gold, that I bought at the Navy Exchange for the first tree Bill and I had together in Norfolk;
the salt-dough ornaments made by our children in early school years, so heavy that I have to find a sturdy branch for them;
the fabric ornaments–angels, dancers, and the main characters from the Wizard of Oz– lovingly crafted by my Aunt Edna;
the fragile straw stars, yul buks, and tomtens from Sweden;
the special collectors’ items from museums, gifts from my brother;
the small tokens of the trips Bill and I took together–the clay toucan from Costa Rica, the glass fish from the Virgin Islands, the pewter compass for the North Cape of Europe.
Each one I take up in my hands and hang tenderly on the tree, remembering all the love behind each one. The tree shimmers with love and echoes with memories.
Kristin, your description of your tree covered in memories gives light to the beautiful traditions of Christmas. Hope you and your family have a beautiful Christmas and a healthy, peaceful 2016.
Carole
Your entry helped me reflect on my own experience. My small tree has far more ornaments than expected for its size, and I say YES to each one, YES to the smile each one brings, and YES to the loves that do not end.
These rituals are laden with meaning.