Christmas 1957. My grandparent’s home. If you click on the image, I deliberately left it large enough to zoom in on. There’s a lot going on for me in this image. The chair on the right is in my living room today. My mother was 24 that year. The house was modernized in the 1960s after a lightening strike, redecorated again when my grandfather remarried in the 1980s, and then sold after his death. It looks like this only in my memories.
It is the decorations on the tree I want to focus on. The decorations were my grandmother’s and when she passed away, they were handed down to me. I still have them, and as delicate as they are, use them every year, accepting the inevitable losses of children and gravity as the price of seeing them each Christmas cycle.
Praising what is lost makes the remembrance dear