The house is quiet now. The process of taking down the festive decorations, and especially the Christmas tree, always brings a wave of sadness. It marks the end of a point in my life that cannot be experienced again. A flood of memories comes rushing back, and I savor those times when my children and I experienced such joyous times. As I take down each ornament and lay it away for another year, I remember the significance of each one. There’s the little brown lion my son made for me in the third grade. Over the years, it lost one leg, but it still hangs proudly on the tree year after year. I remember the ornaments my daughter made by hand for me when she attended college and didn’t have enough money to buy a present. Sometimes, those presents are the most cherished.
I remember the good times. I remember the lean times when there wasn’t enough money to buy a tree on which to hang the ornaments. Somehow, things always turned out all right. I remember when the children were young and so excited to hang the ornaments on the tree. But I also remember the teen years when they could have cared less.
Life is made up of memories, and as I once again take down the Christmas decorations, I have yet another Christmas to put into my very special memory bank.
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