Each December, I unpack our Christmas tree decorations. Each careful lift of tissue paper, each revelation slowly uncovers the history of my life.
Oh, how swift the passage of the years!
Special childhood ornaments come first: Shiny glass bulbs, yarn figures, Hallmark collectibles from the seventies. My mother’s distinct handwriting dates several. Some were gifts. Some my mother donated to us when we got married. Some still sparkle as brightly as they did in the days when they hung behind shimmering tinsel on our family’s tree.
Our childhood holidays were filled with traditions—cookie baking, candy making, stocking hanging, and present opening. We decorated our tree together, crossing our fingers in hopes that the lights would work. Sometimes we sang songs together. Occasionally we welcomed neighbors for games and treats. Always we waited on Christmas morning for Dad to finish his barn chores before we could take down our stockings and open our presents. It always felt like we were the luckiest kids in the world. I am thankful for these times and emotions and wish all children could feel that way.
I unwrap one tiny angel I thought I had lost. She decorated the first gift I ever gave my grandmother. I only know this because every time I looked at her tree, she pointed it out. When my grandmother died, I found the angel in a box at the bottom of her closet. Grandmother hadn’t put up a Christmas tree in years, but somehow this little cherub survived. Her glistening wings touch my heart.
I made a few decorations for Dennis’s tree when we were dating, and they have survived and hung on our Christmas trees for over 40 years. Many ornaments I bought because they reminded me of the children: When they were babies, I brought home tiny, chubby angels, and as the children grew, I found decorations that reflected their current hobbies and interests. Several made their way to our house after vintage shopping.
Also precious to me are the gifts from my friends and family over the years: homemade ornaments, carefully selected ornaments. I hold each person close as I carefully place the decorations on the tree.
Each year, our ornament collection grows, and it takes most of a day to put up and adorn the tree.
Every year Dennis declares the tree, “the most beautifully decorated, ever!”
Perhaps. What is beautiful is what each piece represents to me—these memories are unique and are mine alone.
Yes, many years have passed since our childhood Christmas trees. And like all of us, my journey has taken unexpected turns.
Births. Deaths. Joys. Sorrows.
Gone are the days of hot chocolate and cookies, of our children’s excitement filling our home.
Gone are many loved ones.
Gone is my youth.
But some things remain:
the love of family and friends,
the gifts of togetherness,
the swift passing of time,
and our precious memories.
It’s a Fine Life
