A Christmas holdover

Familiar objects trip the memory and revitalize warm feelings from the past. A tiny Christmas decoration from 1949 makes my mind flutter with remembrances.

I was 2 as I held my mother’s hand and we walked through the Woolworth five-and-dime store. The floor was cluttered with rubbish and broken ornaments, and I stooped to salvage a small, fragile blue ball.

Mom hung the ball on our tree, and it glittered with the others. She later packed it in a small box and wrote “George’s Blue Ball” in red ink.

Dad was in the military, and we traveled for 15 years. Each Christmas Mom would unpack the ball and hang it on the tree.

When my parents passed, I inherited the ball and hung it on our tree each year. I would retell the story of the blue ball to my daughters, and we would reflect on Christmases past.

Now there is only me to reflect on the past as I hang my blue ball on the tree. I’m filled with septuagenarian memories and warm feelings by a small, familiar object.