Where do Christmas Memories go?

Of all things - a quick dusting of my mantel reminded me how cruel Alzheimer's is.  I love Christmas - not really the gifts - that's my least favorite part.  But I love the rest of it...the season, the awe of the birth of Christ, the lights, the wonder, the decorations, the traditions, the music, the colder weather, the cookies, the treats, the Peppermint shakes, the smiles for no reason, the stories, the memories - and even the shopping for and wrapping of gifts.  I even managed to enjoy the ridiculous traffic around the mall yesterday!

Probably my all-time favorite thing is the memories that nearly all of my ornaments and decorations bring back.  I love unpacking the boxes.  I love positioning the ornaments that have the best 'stories' or have the most history in prime spots on my tree.  I make the kids listen to the stories - hoping to give them their own memories to make their Christmases more magical. 

I have a decoration that I made in the basement of Lima First United Methodist Church in Sunday School for my mom when I was 4 or 5 years old.  It's so ugly it's sweet - like some of those dogs you see on tv!  It's barely holding together.  It's simple and made from an old wooden spool, some tin foil, a green pipe cleaner and red construction paper.  It's supposed to be a poinsettia.  It has a really old-fashioned cardboard gift tag (probably some that were so awful they were donated to the church by someone who bought something cuter!) with my name written in pencil!  And I remember every single Christmas that my mom put it out on our piano from the time I was about 12.  I hated that thing - it was so ugly!  I didn't understand why she kept it.  My mom was famous for getting rid of old things - she never kept clothes from her youth, we had no antiques in our house, she was Goodwill's best friend - no chance of Peg ending up on Hoarders!  But she kept that old, frail, simple decoration and she put it out with the best, shiniest, newest decorations every single year. 

I get it now.  I have an entire tree in our bedroom dedicated to handmade ornaments - some made by me, some by my friends, but most made by my kids in their classrooms or at our kitchen table.  I love all of them.  I look at the dates and the kids names on the back or their pictures on the front and my heart fills all the way up with love and Christmas.

I have the old poinsettia on my mantle this year - it's place of honor since I was able to rescue mom's Christmas decorations from the basement in Shawnee after her husband passed. 

I put it in her hands this year - hopeful of a memory for us to share.  Nothing.  She smiled - she likes Christmas too and she likes to be included in anything we do.  But no memory.  No flashback.  No magical Christmas moment for me and mom.  I'm the keeper of that memory now.  I am passing it down to my kids and when the time comes I hope one of them will be enough like me that the only thing they will really want after I am gone is a big red box of handmade ornaments wrapped in tissue paper with names and years and faded photos.  And they will open it up every year, the Friday after Thanksgiving, and tell their kids stories of Christmases when they were kids and maybe tell them how much I loved Christmas ... as they put the poinsettia in a place of honor on their mantel.