day 3 - One of the best parts of Christmas |
Prompt for: November 25, 2018 (Ren) Subject or Theme: Holiday Decorating - a source of joy or agony? Word(s) to Include: 5 decorative items (e.g. wreaths, lights, Santa), appoint, red, green, glitter (or any derivatives of these words) Forbidden Word(s): decorate, decorations, box, hang/ (or any derivatives of these words) Additional Parameters: Must be a minimum of 125 words (please include word count at bottom of poem) Remember, do not use forbidden words ANYWHERE, including title or the brief description. Like a scrapbook or photo album, our tree is a yearly appointment with memories past. As each ornament is carefully positioned, memories surface as to the who, the what, the when. Styrofoam snowman drummer boy, now over fifty years old. Always first, dead-center of the tree. His felt is time worn, his glitter dulled. Yet the occasion of my husband receiving his Ludwigs drumset still resonates. Glass ship, sails catching the wind. It should have shattered many times over the years. Indestructable apparently. It is Old Ironsides after all. Red and green elf (more strofoam) loses his head at least once per Christmas. My grandmother, Annie brought him from Ireland in 1923. He always perches on a high branch; watches over us even as my grandmother still does. German Saint Nichlas traveled from Germany in 1887 wrapped in my other grandmother's wedding veil. He originated with her great great grandfather. Wooden horse carved by my dad, worn smooth ever the years and tears. Each branch holds a recollection. Nestled under lowest branches one hundred and seventy-some-odd year old manger wraps round the Holy Family. The camel has a missing leg, the second Wiseman has lost his staff. The angel has a broken wing; it matters not for still, she flies. Ensconsed in nearby ladderback chair, our snowman sits, legs crossed holding a stuffed toy Bichon in his lap. One shelf in he bookcase nudges one to curl up by the fire and read old favorites once again. A Christmas Carol, The Cat in the Manger, The Nurenberg Stove, The Night Before Christmas all will be read this season. Tradition. Pine boughs in every room spread scented memories -- once was my grandmother and I gathering them on our mountain; now grandchildren and I glean from the backyard. In time-tarnished brass candlestick, on the dining room table, the Christmas Candle waits. Lit for a minute every year, it blesses our family before dinner on Christmas Day. Same candle my mother, my grandmother and her mother lit every year. There is still about three inches of candle left. These and many, many more moments collected and gifted over generations. A litany of memories, lovingly recounted. Ghosts gather; the room warms. 368 words |