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When I was growing up, the saddest thing in the world was coming home from school after Christmas vacation and finding that my mother was already undecorating the Christmas tree. Maybe it was that she felt it had grown too dry to be safe or that she simply wanted to clean up the living room, but it didn't matter---my tree was leaving! Because I was an only child, I could leave my presents there for a long time without fear of them being taken, moved, or damaged. For all the bad things about having no siblings, never having anybody mess with my stuff was great. But when my mother was on one of her rare cleaning binges, everything had to be put away. Slowly the precious, delicate ornaments that had been part of my entire life were gently removed, wrapped up, and stored until the next year. Some were very old. Because they were fragile, they were always put high up on the tree. This put them above any visitors brushing by or the cocker spaniel rummaging for her doggy treat that Santa brought. After the ornaments were secured, the lights were carefully unstrung and coiled to make next year's decorating job easier. This left only the foil "icicles" (to be later replaced by the saran variety) remained. These were impossible to remove and inexpensive to replace, so we never bothered taking them off. Taking the actual tree out was left to my father. Then the end of the living room that had held it that year would be vacuumed to get up the endless pine needles.
Today I began taking down Christmas here at Tangled Oaks. This year it consisted mainly of the tree. My top piece was given to me as a gift a few years ago. It is the figure of someone I call "Father Christmas", an old man holding a banner decorated with holly. It is hollow in the center allowing the treetop to be fitted into it. It may be a unique tree topper, but it is very much the spirit of Christmas and reminds me of a good friend's thoughtfulness. But the ornaments are the things that can really tug on my heartstrings, because many were made by my children when they were little plus family and friends who are no longer living. For example, the needlepoint shapes that had a message inside their "mouths" to "squeeze the cheeks" to get a treat held a Hershey's Kiss. An old friend made these along with many other lovely ornaments to give as gifts. The number of these gifts increased after her retirement but ended when she had her first stroke. Many more were made by my late mother. She crafted angels of Styrofoam and burlap. The children made many ornaments in their preschool classes plus many more on their own. Some of them still bear their names on the back; on others the Playdough™ is crumbling. But I hang them proudly as I have for years, reminding me of times in the past. Other child-related ornaments are little wooden toys on which I painted their names and the dates. That is the sad part because these were of the twenty years we lived in our house in New Jersey, the place that the kids, and I, still call "home". The past two years my ornament collection has grown with the addition of handmade ornaments from my daughter. These are decorated with photos of grandchildren with the dates on the back. These ornaments are precious for many reasons, since they represent the transition from a child's artwork to another MOTHER'S artwork. Other decorations that still have to come down include the string of white lights on the window by my computer monitor. They are loosely framing a wreath that was a gift to my husband from a co-worker at his job. I had them on at night when I am out with the dogs. They looked little white dots of falling snow inside the house. Putting anything on the front door is useless since it is not visible from the road. Years ago I purchased a mailbox decoration of a penguin, but because of ice on the driveway I couldn't get up there to put it on! Last night I had another nostalgic moment when my husband told me that I had MISSED AN ORNAMENT. Sure enough there was one more hiding amid the thick artificial green boughs. Back home in New Jersey there were ALWAYS ornaments that "got away" or were batted around by the cats. Rather than unpack the packing boxes I kept an old hatbox in the attic for all the escapees. Since the attic had a very low ceiling, this worked well in keeping things neat. The pull down stairs allowed me to put these renegades away easily without having to slide around on my behind while trying to avoid the roofing nails that stuck out. Here at Tangled Oaks there are two attics, one over the main house and the other over the garage. The latter has pull down stairs, but these don't reach the floor. When my husband wanted to put some things up there, he had to get a ladder to reach the stairs. What a nuisance! That means going down to the basement. People going down there have been known to vanish, and I tell others that if they sin God will send them not to Hell, but to our basement! This year I think I will store the Christmas decorations out on the porch. Just Mom |
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