The Tree That Shines With Memories

The Tree That Shines With Memories

The Christmas Memories Tree is shining in the dark living room. It is lighted by memories of other Christmases and many different people, all dear to me. These ornaments span almost fifty years–well, more than that, counting the blue cloth Christmas tree, cut from a remnant of my grandmother’s quilt and padded by cotton grown at Etta Bend. That little tree would be–let me see now–at least a hundred years old.

Bells and snowflakes crocheted by my mother, decorations made by Matt’s kindergarten hands, a shiny nut shell, carved with intricate designs from my dear friend Linda, a walnut strawberry made by my sister Helen, a lo-o-ong bearded Santa which began life as the hull of a ketalpa bean from the tree which stood in my parents’ yard until an Oklahoma wind felled it, the wallpaper angel at the top from my sister-in-law Carlene, and the beautiful latch hook tree skirt, also made by Helen.

A beautiful silver-colored magnolia bloom came all the way from Mississippi and a lovely glass hummingbird is from Dawn’s mom  who loves hummingbirds.

I even have a few ornaments from kindergarteners who have been grown up people for a lot of years. And, many more.

Each year, I get them out, unwrap them, and place them on the tree. After Christmas, I take them down, wrap them in paper, and nest them away in a box. They’ll wait a whole year before seeing another Christmas, but when they make their appearance, they’ll brighten the room and my heart by bringing back, if only for a season, those dear people and the irreplaceable memories they represent.

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