I’ve reached the age where my list of favorite Christmas memories has grown almost too long to recall””or maybe I’ve just grown too old to remember. If I had to choose one, at the top of the list is the year my momma brought home one of the silver tinsel tree beauties famous in the sixties. All the neighbors had them set up front and center in their large picture windows, for the entire world to see. Momma was so proud of the psychedelic wonder she’d created that rotated non-stop and was lit with a changing color spot light.
I don’t think Daddy was quite as enamored with her purchase, but he went along with it. He claimed he missed the smell of a fresh cut evergreen. Momma’s reply was she didn’t miss the little pine needles that clogged up her vacuum cleaner as real trees started to dry out. She did compromise by using the ornaments collected over the years instead of the plain, glassy ornaments that reflected the color wheel so nicely.
If you’ve ever had one of the silver stunners, you’ve probably experienced the little shock you’d get if you risked walking across the carpet and touching one of the tinsel branches. I for one couldn’t resist the temptation. Especially if my brother dared me. On days I really felt courageous, I’d rub my feet a few times on the carpet before touching the tree. I’m not sure which hurt more. The crack of static shock from the manufactured tree of foil, or stepping on a dead, fallen pine needle from the real trees we had before.
The best part, and one of my favorite memories, is the way my brother and sister and I would lay beneath the silver tree and watch the ornaments circle overhead. The shiny little baubles were hypnotic as they made their way around and around and around. From our positions on the floor, we could see all the way up to the top branches. We fought over which ornament was the prettiest. Of course my picks were the winners”¦at least in my mind.
We spent hours over the course of the season leading up to the jolly man in the red suit’s annual visit talking, dreaming, and naturally, arguing. We were siblings after all and it was our duty to bicker, pinch, and name call. The fights never lasted long. How could they with the artificial beauty of the tree circling overhead in all its glory? A few times we even dragged our pillows under the tree with us planning to sleep there overnight. We never made it all night. Not that I recall anyway.
We never had to worry about starving while enjoying our time down under. Many of Momma’s homemade Christmas cookies and candies were scarfed down beneath the tree. We liked to consider ourselves the test tasters of her hard labor.
Momma put that tree up until the foil leaves began shedding and silver trees were no longer fashionable. I still remember how close I felt to my brother and sister in the hours spent admiring the tree. When I think back to those times together, my heart warms and I even get teary-eyed. As a child you just don’t know how precious those moments together are. By the time you realize it, the times are gone and you’ve grown up. What I wouldn’t give to spend one more Christmas season beneath the tree with my siblings again, but it’s impossible. My brother spends Christmas in heaven now, and my sister and I spend our holidays with our families.
I’ll never get to lie beneath a silver tree of wonder again, but I do hang about a dozen of my momma’s old ornaments on the coveted top branches of my plain green trees. Over the years, I have taken my husband, my kids and my grand-blessings for excursions down under the branches. And those are Christmas memories to share another time.
I hope you have a great holiday season making wonderful memories with the people you love.
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I write romantic suspense and would love for you to check out my latest release.
After waiting nine months for the perfect chance to infiltrate the Russian Mafia’s sex slave operation, former Navy SEAL, Tucker Abrams, gets his chance. There’s one slight problem. At the same time he’s going deep undercover, he’s supposed to be at the church, marrying the love of his life.
Jillian Gilmore’s wedding day has arrived. Unfortunately, her groom has not. After surviving three months of hurt and humiliation as a jilted bride, her missing in action groom returns, wanting to pick up where they left off.
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