Our elderly neighbors across the street are moving to assisted living. In the past year, they have endured a series of health problems, so it was the logical next step. I think they’ve lived in this neighborhood since it was built — at least 30 something years.
When I came home this past Thanksgiving, I noticed that their house was up for sale. Little by little, they have been placing boxes, and furniture and random items on the lawn for trash pick-up. My mom has been collecting some of the stuff they have been giving her (like a perfect 1960s era vintage desk with gilded edges). Most recently, she acquired a box of Christmas decorations.
I discovered this one of these boxes today–filled with pristine 1960s-1980s ornaments, bells, lights, music boxes, dolls–each item meticulously cared for and in its original packaging, most with the original price tags still intact. I sifted through the box–every year they had collected an ornament from Hallmark. I don’t know there were other boxes with other ornaments, or if this was the only one, but this box contained ornaments that start at 1977, and then, inexplicably stop at 1987.
What must it have been like for them, in younger years, collecting these ornaments year by year. I imagined these ornaments dangling on 30 years of Christmas trees, with family gathered around, lights making presents sparkle, children laughing, cookies baking. All those Christmases, all that life–now just a boxful of memories sitting in wilted box on the sidewalk, discarded.
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