Let’s just say this right off the bat. I may love Christmas decorating, but there’s nothing fun about pulling boxes out of storage and stubbing your toe on a stocking hanger. I’m just sayin’.
I started my Christmas decorating off with a little musak. This particular CD to be exact:
With upbeat fa la la la la’s in the background, I managed to put together my Christmas tree (yes, I’m a fake-not-real Christmas tree person) and get it ornament ready by stringing white light through its plastic branches. It may not be glamorous, but it works for me.
I was singing along, excited to be alive, when I opened up the box that had all my ornaments. And what I was not expecting was a feeling of nostalgic sadness to wash over me.
You see, when I was a baby, Nana started a tradition. She would buy us an ornament each Christmas, write the year and the grandkids’ first name initial on the bottom or back. Usually these ornaments were either purchased at after Christmas Hallmark sales or hand-made with all sorts of different materials. The idea was that when a grandkid moved out of the house, they would take all their ornaments with them and have enough for their own tree.
And that’s exactly what happened.
It’s been many Christmases since my Nana passed away, but every once in a while I just miss her intensely. Like when I’m confused over an embroidery stitch or when my flowers seem to die no matter how much I try to keep them alive. Or, when I’m face to face with my Christmas tree that is a reminder of her presence in my life that is so noticeably and achingly absent now. It just caught me off guard.
I finished all my decorating up and I’m glad that I did. But I can’t really shake off the melancholy that lingers. I guess I just miss her, is all. And I’m thankful that I got to know her and that her legacy lives on…even through simple ornaments.
I haven’t forgotten about the pictures or the Christmas playlist, but I think I’ll just post those tomorrow.