Thursday's ornament: snoopy bell, circa 1976. Story: my grandmother started a tradition with all of her grandkids to buy each of us an ornament every year for christmas. They were always from the hallmark collection and it was always a highlight each christmas eve to tear off the wrapping paper to see the year's addition.....over the years my mom would write each of our names and date on the bottom so as not to get confused with my brother or sister's ornaments.

I can recall the feelings of delight every year decorating our family tree as my mom would hand each of us our own shoe box filed with our growing collection of ornaments. One by one I would pull each treasure out....some brightly colored, decorated animals doing things only allowed if you are an ornament.....polar bears sleeping on a tray of ice cubes...owls on ice skates.....mice threading popcorn garlands....some were more traditional bulbs with hallmarkish sayings that professed grandmotherly love to us children. Words that, as a young child meant little, but as an adult are woven deeply in my heart.

And then there were the very first few my grandmother gifted to us as babies. These were ceramic. delicate. The ones that my mom would swoop in and snatch from our hands and hang them on the highest of high branches...before we could unintentionally break them. The very first one I ever received is in today's ornament picture. A ceramic bell with snoopy kissing that yellow bird that I forget the name of. I love that you can see my mom's handwriting on it "Jenny 1976".

When you look carefully at the ornament, you can see it has been cracked and re-glued and there are bits and pieces of the bell that were never recovered from it's accidental shattering. I could have you try and guess my age at the time of the *incident* and I imagine most of you would guess under the age of ten. Nope. My mom and all her protectiveness saved this ornament from danger throughout my entire childhood. It wasn't until about 5 years ago, as an adult, that our entire tree tipped over in the tree stand and shattered many of my most prized gems. Dammit, where was my mom that year...

I glued it back together the best I could and I still hang in on my tree {on the highest of high branches} with pride and love. My grandmother stopped the tradition of ornaments awhile ago and I am so glad I still have my shoebox of treasures. My grandma, still alive but lost in dementia in a nursing home, often doesn't remember who I am or even speak to me sometimes when I visit. But I know she loves me. And I love her. And every christmas I have her collection of gifted ornaments to gaze at. To remind me to pause, if but for a moment, to reflect on life. A childhood tradition long gone but never forgotten. To reflect on love. Sometimes forgotten but never gone.



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