. Memories, tucked between the pages of my mind . . . Memories, sweetened through the ages just like wine. Quiet thoughts come floating down, and settle softly to the ground . . (Elvis)
Curling up under the Christmas tree (no perfect chair yet) offers a poignant perspective of ornaments from 77 years of collecting — the quilted mailbox from my dear friend Martha, no longer with us, who tenderly cared for me following the death of my husband. The ragged teddy bear, missing an arm and an ear, eaten by a beloved dog of many generations ago, the one who ate all my guinea chicks. The glitzy, jeweled balls I made in graduate school instead of working on my dissertation. A tiny piece of sheet music from a friend now dealing with cancer. A worn Santa who brings back the memory of my mother reading us The Night Before Christmas every Christmas Eve . . .
Sometimes the sacred places inside us where we store all these memories seem too full to bear, and sometimes they are precious sites where we can go to laugh and cry and give thanks. Don’t you hope at some time in the future when you are no longer earthbound, some other will think of you with a fond smile, and gratitude that you were known? Maybe we should give everyone we know a Christmas ornament to make sure.
This morning as I sit here in the semi-darkness listening to a cold rain falling softly on the porch, my favorite ornament (my “favorite” changes daily, of course) is a LSU Geaux Tigers tiger, bringing back images of an engagement ring presented at an LSU-Ole Miss football game, the tiny diamond reflected a million times by the stadium lights, and thus appearing to me ginormous. Canny Cajuns.
I have always wished to be canny, and even with those 77 years of experience tucked away in my Experience Bag, I’m still not sure I can lay claim to that adjective. “Canny Helen.” Nope, I’m not sure any of my friends or family would use that descriptor. But I still aspire to that slitty-eyed “shrewdness.” Some day. Maybe.
On this day of Advent, may your memories bring you solace. And maybe even laughter.
