Thursday, December 3, 2009

A Little Plastic Bell

The plastic bell hangs from the worn, black thread. When shaken, the sound is more a thud than a ring. The red plastic has dulled. This bell once new hung on a tree in Ohio.

Again, December had arrived. Dad lifted me to put the blue angel on the tree. Every year we debated whether to hang the star or the angel. The angel with spun-glass hair was always my favorite. I was hypnotized by the bubble lights. We draped icicles one by one over the limbs. Decorating the tree was a ritual....and a memory.

"Sydney gets to put the star on the tree this year, Grammy," said Gabby. Wow! No arguments over the star instead generosity. I told the girls

I would work on the lights while they made cards for our ornaments we would give out daily. Before I knew it, small hands were passing the lights around the tree.

"Do you want me to help hang ornaments so you can get done faster?" I asked.

"No," answered Sydney. “I want to know the history of each one.” Another 'wow'. Sydney would be the keeper of the memories.

“Can we string popcorn and cranberries like we did last year,” she asked. Well, if I remember rightly, last year we had popcorn everywhere and the girls gave up the effort after about 2 ‘ of stringing.

“Of course, we can,” I answered without hesitation.

A plastic bell hangs on the tree. A bell hung on a tree by my hand….the hand of a small child. The bell holds new memories for Sydney to take through life and holds memories of the trees on the farm on Neff Road.

“Did you know that an angel gets its wings when a bell rings?” asked Gabby. Ah, yes, they had seen ‘It’s A Wonderful Life’.

The little plastic bell rings when my darling angels hang it on the tree. “Can you hear it, Mom?”

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