***I'm re-posting (with edits) this family Christmas story. Merry Christmas everyone.***
My mother spent last December on her hands and knees in a basement crawl space.
You see, she decided to "weed out her stash" of Christmas decorations. For years, she carefully balanced mountains of holiday
CRAP items in the
pine scented closet under her basement stairs. Want to see what
forty years of Christmas YA-HA looks like? Okay. All we ask is that
you open the door CAREFULLY: A collection of green Santas, (Seriously.
If it was Santa? And he was green as opposed to red? He's probably in
there), innumerable ornaments, evergreen swags a go-go, christmasy candles, at least two creches, advent calendars, wreaths, all
sizes of plastic trees carefully packed up with lights and ornaments
intact, holiday themed welcome mats and wind socks, and a multitude of heavenly hosts
singing, "Glory to God on the highest! And peace to his people on earth!"
She asked what my sister and I wanted. I could have had it all, a smorgasbord of green Santas. A ton of tinsel. A plenitude of painted pine cones. But the only thing I wanted? The one treasure? A Christmas ornament my mother bought for me when I was a little girl. A very talkative little girl with dark brown hair and awkward little-girl glasses, who was crazy about Wonder Woman.