All my life I have loved these ornaments:
I remember carefully hanging them on the Christmas trees of my childhood, admiring their sparkle and the bright happy colours. When I grew up and left my parents' house, I harboured secret hopes that one day they might be mine. Though tarnished and scratched from years of use, they were always beautiful in my eyes.
When my sister and I were in California earlier this month, packing up my dad's things, we each chose a few keepsakes from among the possessions he no longer wanted - and the little box of glass ornaments fell to my share.
I carried them home from California in my backpack, tenderly tucked between skeins of yarn for protection from travelling bumps. When I got back to Wisconsin, I pulled them out to show Mr. M. We exclaimed at the price ($1.89!), and wondered how old they might be. Then I turned the box over, and saw that my dad had written something on one end - something I'd never noticed before now:
Is it silly that I cried when I saw this? Perhaps. But now these little glass ornaments are more precious to me than ever. I will hang them on my own tree this coming December, and think of my parents celebrating their first joyful Christmas, just days before the birth of my oldest brother.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~