sentimental
As a child, I had one of those families that gathered every year at my Grandmother's house. My mother's family was large, Catholic and agricultural, a double whammy in the midwest. I have cousins that I still don't know the names of and wouldn't recognize on the street.
My Grandmother did Christmas right. There was a huge Christmas centerpiece on the dining room table surrounded by little reindeer and tiny fake fir trees. The paned glass bay window was filled with elaborate hand beaded ornaments and their was a small gift for every person under the huge fresh tree. Every spare space covered with pecan sandies and spritz cookies. My young cousins and I would sneak into the bedrooms and play with my Grandmother's hand crocheted pearl necklaces and we'd get in trouble for taking out the round of poker chips. I would always take an ornament off the tree and play with it, already old and sticky and slightly tattered when I was a child. It was a small green hobby horse made of felt and ribbon, an opening for a candy cane to slide through to act as the stick, the head of the horse holding the candy. I loved it, I coveted it with it's googly eyes, gold ribbon, and glued sequins. I put it back on the tree to return to it the next year, every year.
Every year until I was around 12 when my Grandmother had a stroke. After that Christmas changed. We went to other houses and it was just never the same, never so family oriented. She died about 4-5 years later and we went to clean out her house and sort out all of her items. At that time we came to her Christmas ornaments and I expressed that the only thing I wanted from my Grandmother was that one item, that one little felt ornament. It was the only thing I took and I've cherished it, it always took me back to those days as a small child.
Today one of the dogs got it off the tree and ate it while Matt and I were gone.
My Grandmother did Christmas right. There was a huge Christmas centerpiece on the dining room table surrounded by little reindeer and tiny fake fir trees. The paned glass bay window was filled with elaborate hand beaded ornaments and their was a small gift for every person under the huge fresh tree. Every spare space covered with pecan sandies and spritz cookies. My young cousins and I would sneak into the bedrooms and play with my Grandmother's hand crocheted pearl necklaces and we'd get in trouble for taking out the round of poker chips. I would always take an ornament off the tree and play with it, already old and sticky and slightly tattered when I was a child. It was a small green hobby horse made of felt and ribbon, an opening for a candy cane to slide through to act as the stick, the head of the horse holding the candy. I loved it, I coveted it with it's googly eyes, gold ribbon, and glued sequins. I put it back on the tree to return to it the next year, every year.
Every year until I was around 12 when my Grandmother had a stroke. After that Christmas changed. We went to other houses and it was just never the same, never so family oriented. She died about 4-5 years later and we went to clean out her house and sort out all of her items. At that time we came to her Christmas ornaments and I expressed that the only thing I wanted from my Grandmother was that one item, that one little felt ornament. It was the only thing I took and I've cherished it, it always took me back to those days as a small child.
Today one of the dogs got it off the tree and ate it while Matt and I were gone.