Seasons for All

Handprints on Hearts

There is a song in "Wicked" called "For Good."  In it are lyrics that tug at my heartstrings, words that speak to memories made by people who spend time together.  This week, after 23 years of providing tender loving care to hundreds of infants, toddlers, young children, and even tweens, my sister closed the doors to her beloved day care business.  She will forever be in the hearts of the children she cared for, the parents she befriended, and the ladies who worked beside her over the years.  It's sad to see someone's life's work end, and it certainly isn't any easier when it is someone as close as your sister.  Here is the song from "Wicked" that sums up this kind of good-bye.

Ghosts of Christmas Past

I saw in a grocery store last week a good friend's ex-boyfriend.  My first thought when I saw him was to turn and head in the other direction.  I didn't want to exchange a single word with him.  High school sweethearts, he and my friend were together for a handful of years, then on and off for a couple of decades.  When they were together, he joined her at the homes of family and friends for all special occasions and was very much a part of her family.  I remember his being hilariously funny, but his humor stemmed from a quirkiness that was scary-odd.  He wore weird shoes, by choice.  That wasn't the scary-odd part, but it was indicative of something.  In her teens, my friend adopted the same strange taste in shoes. 

As I drove home that afternoon, I tried to imagine how my good friend's life would be now if they'd stayed together.  I pondered for a while variations in emotional health and deduced that, even though it was her decision to end the relationship, her hopes for domestic bliss were dashed once and for all when that relationship finally ended.  Sad, really.  To this day, his influence on her is clearly evident to me in several ways, starting with her shoes.

A couple of days later, a young woman who looked vaguely familiar approached me when I was shopping at the local mall.  As she said aloud my first name with inflections of a question being asked, I suddenly recognized her as a member of a department I had managed over 20 years ago.  I had invested time in her professional development but did not keep in touch with her after I left that employer in 1989.  She gave me a hug then pointed across the way to a young man who I assumed was her boyfriend -- because he looked only slightly younger than she was when we worked together.  But the young man wasn't her boyfriend, he was her son.  She asked about my sister, mentioned a mutual friend, then wished me Merry Christmas and turned to rejoin her son.  As I walked in the other direction, I remembered a few of the Christmas gifts I had given to her and her teammates.  But more than that, I was struck by the fact that she has become a truly stunning woman.  Time, lots of it, had passed and I wished we had had a longer visit.  

Today, I was driving through town and a young man was walking on the side of the road just ahead of me.  On the back of his sweatshirt was printed the last name of a former boyfriend of mine.  Same name, just spelled differently.  As factoids about this old flame began to surface, I caught a glimpse of the front of the sweatshirt.  It displayed the name of an Ivy League college.  It was not the same one my old boyfriend had attended; nonetheless, it was one of them.  My first date with him was the day after Christmas, so I usually think of him this time of year.  And, like my good friend, he and I were on and off for a while.  I haven't seen him in years and if I were to see him somewhere now, it's hard to say what I'd do.  Sometimes it's fun to catch up, sometimes it's best to let memories be.

Over the past few weeks as I've conjured up cookie dough and all the magic that goes with a Christmas Eve tradition with my family, I have recalled with much fondness and love the Christmas celebrations my mother and father created for my sisters and me.  They were always full of surprises and they were always full of love.  My father has been gone for over 25 years and my mother for more than 15 years.  It is so much fun to be able to create for my children and grandchildren the same holiday traditions I had when I was young.

The late Dan Fogelberg wrote and sang a lovely song called "Same Old Lang Syne" in which the storyteller runs into an old lover in a grocery story on Christmas Eve.  Initial awkwardness is acknowledged, but the couple spends time catching up and then parts ways returning to their current lives.  Since so many people are in their hometowns during the holiday season, the odds of running into old acquaintances are exponentially higher during the last 2 weeks in December than any other time of year.  And running into old acquaintances isn't always as it was for the couple in Fogelberg's song.  Sometimes it's just the opposite.

Ebenezer Scrooge, for example, experienced a high level of stress when he met The Ghost of Christmas Past in Dickens' classic A Christmas Carol. Scrooge encountered only one ghost.  I have crossed paths with more than one this season.  Some in the flesh and some in my mind.  They're not all scary ghosts.  In fact, some of them surface the sweetest Christmas memories I hold.

Favorite Christmas Decor

It's nearly impossible for me to choose a favorite Christmas decoration.  I inherited my mother's decorating gene and so I've collected holiday decor for many years.  In taking photos of my  Christmas decor for a few holiday home tours, I've chosen a photograph that includes two Christmas treasures. 

 

On the left is a music box given to my sisters and me by our grandparents when we were little girls.  My grandmother added a little tag to a wing on each angel and, on the tag, was written my sister's and my names.  The cloud upon which the angels kneel is turned to wind the music box and, as the music plays, the cloud slowly turns like a carousel.  My mother always placed it on top of the piano during the Christmas season, not far from the creche.  The song in this music box is "Silent Night." 

And on the right, is a photo of my sons when they were little boys.  I love the taffeta plaid-covered frame and, of course, I love this photo of my sons.  I dressed them in red and green sweaters because, in those days, my parents, in-laws, and grandparents wanted nothing more for Christmas than photographs of my children.  I love this photo of my sons for a few reasons, including the fact that my younger son is holding two small footballs and neither of my boys had lost any teeth yet!

There are so many more holiday decorations that are favorites, sentimental treasures that elicit from with me a palpable joy for the season.  Christmas Eve is my favorite day of the entire year because my whole family gathers in my home, a long-standing tradition begun by my mother. 

For those visiting by way of Pink Saturday, special thanks to Beverly at How Sweet the Sound for hosting this fun holiday edition of this weekly fun.

This Old Sewing Machine

Last weekend my sister asked me if I wanted Mom's antique sewing machine.  If not, she'll next offer it to my daughter-in-law, which is the perfect contingency plan.   

My father's career involved traveling the world, so we had stunning one-of-a-kind pieces of furniture in our home as we were growing up.  Some pieces were custom made at his request to compliment details found in other pieces he had previously purchased.  My mother rounded out their collection with exquisite selections that graced the rooms in our home, boasting an overall style that could be found in no other home we visited. 

About a year after my mother passed away (my father had passed away 10 years earlier), my sisters and I divided between us the furniture she and my father had accumulated in their nearly 30 years of marriage.  The three of us had agreed to some basic guidelines, such as keeping whole sets together.  For individual pieces, we rotated choosing one at a time until all were claimed.  We agreed that, if for any reason one of us no longer wanted or needed a piece of furniture we had inherited from our parents' collection, we would give first option of possession to the other two sisters.  It’s worked quite well and there have been no changes made until now.

Along with furniture I have purchased over time, some of the beautiful furniture I have from my parents' home is their lovely French mahogany dining room set.  And oh how I love this set!  In terms of other key pieces, I preferred my parents’ hat rack while my sisters each chose one of two antique sewing machines.  Both sewing machines are treadle models, with beautiful hand carved wooden casework and cast iron frames.  It is one of those sewing machines that is now poised for transition of ownership.

There is no sentimental value associated with this sewing machine as no handmade labors of love were crafted on it by anyone in our family.  My mother co-owned an antique store at one time and enjoyed the opportunity of enhancing the unique furnishings in our home with vintage collectibles.  She purchased both sewing machines from that antique store and had in mind when she bought each a specific area of her home where it would be placed.    

Although I learned to sew as a teenager, I did not continue by choice.  However, I do very much cherish beautiful, well-made furniture -- old or new.  I love the style and shape of this vintage sewing machine, and I love the era it represents. 

The rooms in my home are well appointed with furniture as they stand now, and, except for moving around a couple of small chairs and a chest to make way for the Christmas tree in early December, I won’t be rearranging anything. My younger son will eventually move away from the nest and his bedroom is the one area where there will be changes in furniture placement when that time comes. 

I have not yet asked my sister the questions that will help me make a decision about this sewing machine.  I don't recall much about this particular piece, i.e., the kind of wood, the dimensions, whether the lid opens or not, if the original sewing machine is still housed inside, etc. 

This sewing machine is charming and I am envisioning it as a focal point in my son's "old" bedroom.  I am also being mindful of that fact that my other son and daughter-in-law are still putting together their home. I'll have to find out if my daughter-in-law has already fallen in love with this old sewing machine and, just as my mother had, can envision it fitting perfectly in a specific area of her home.

Originally posted July 2008.