TWO LITTLE ANGELS

Christmas is that time of year for celebrating the birth of Christ, for reconnecting with family and friends, for traditions, and for making memories. 

This year, after dealing with Covid and all of its other incarnations, I think lots of folks were reluctant to let go of Christmas. And I was no different. 

Each year according to our tradition, we buy a live tree. This year we got the most perfect Concolor from a tree farm nearby. 

Reluctant to part with it as Christmas came and went, I kept my live tree up a tad longer than I usually do. But sooner or later, I knew it would have to come down. Needles were starting to drop. Not too many, but I didn’t want a repeat of last year when the only thing that got taken out was the bare branches of what was once a pine tree.

I started with removing the tinsel like I always do. Yes, I am one of those people who recycles their tinsel. Mostly, because you can’t buy it anymore. Plus, it is gold tinsel instead of silver and I doubt I would be able to find gold tinsel come next year.

Then it was time to remove all the ornaments. Like so many of us, most of my ornaments are old, collected over the years, gifts from friends, or simply too dear to ever part with, regardless of their condition. Removing each ornament, I reminisced about each one, where it came from, who gave it to me (old friends or family) mistily enjoying my trip back to yesteryear.  

And then I came to the last two. My favorites. But for two little ornaments that mean so much, I suddenly could not for the life of me remember where or when I acquired them. And then I was reminded that my sister-in-law purchased them for me when my daughters were toddlers.

One ornament is a kneeling angel, her long white hair matted now after hanging around for so many Christmases. And the other is her younger counterpart, a flying cherub with a short white-haired bob. Two little angels that have graced my Christmas tree for more years than I care to remember. Except for white hair grown wispy from years of zipping through my many Christmas trees, they are in remarkable condition.

The ornaments have become a tradition. Each year they are among the very first to be placed at strategic points on my tree. Just to make sure my two daughters can see them. Because for some reason, they are a reminder of my two daughters as they once were so many years ago.

My cherubs, my babies, my children. 

So, I will take my angel ornaments, brush their wispy hair, wrap them in tissue paper and pack them away for another year, until they can fly once more among strands of gold tinsel and rainbow-colored lights, alighting on branches of pine.