One More Package Of Memories


Christmas Memories

1963

(As printed in the Houghton Lake Resorter Weekly Newspaper- MUSINGS OF A HOMEMAKER)

The pine tree stands in the corner, colorful but lonely. Gaily wrapped gifts beneath its branches have disappeared.  The sweet smell of pine is no longer in the air.

Shiny bicycles and curly haired dolls have gone from view.

Our annual celebration of the birth of the Christ Child has filled expectations.

Glittering and once lovely wrappings lie crushed in empty cartons awaiting the end of their usefulness. Under the tree lies a ribbon of red reminding us of our passion for loving. Nearby lie wrinkled bows;  red and blue, gold and green promising new life in the coming year.

Mixed emotions now wrap our package of memories; sadness and laughter, hope and regret, there remain faith, tenderness, and a colorful memory of the quickly fleeting twelve months.

 1963 has flown away swiftly, as on the wings of a bird; never pausing for a moment.

Ahead lie twelve unfolding months of new experiences.  Once more, at the end of the year, we will reminisce about our newfound treasures.

We’re starting anew. The final design will be original and personal and full of twists and turns.

Gracious living to you and yours in the exciting new year of 1964.

2016

The sweet smell of pine can always be purchased in a spray can from the store.

The artificial tree is stored in a box to be retrieved from the storage room next December. There are no pine needles to be vacuumed and no shiny bicycles on display. There are no more snowy excursions to the nearby woods to look for the perfect tree which must be evenly proportioned on at least  three* sides.

(*We can always turn the flat side toward the window.)

We now delight in flannel shirts and an occasional bottle of after-shave. Perhaps there will be a sweater for me and a current book I’ve been thinking about.

In a few moments the gifts are unwrapped and the shirts are checked to make sure they will fit the intended one. Paper and bow must be carefully folded and used again next year.

The grandchildren are in their early thirties now but determined to spend Christmas morning with Grandpa and Grandma. Our Christmas morning tradition is to have breakfast together and open our gifts.

It’s a happy time.

We once gave our 6-year-old granddaughter a goat for Christmas. Recalling her expression when she found “Peppy” in a special pen in the barn with a big red bow tied around his neck, brings a sweet memory each year.

 We’re starting anew.

Life has become more precious as each year passes.

The future is shorter and the past went by too quickly.

 Life is good!

2018

Tomorrow is Christmas.

Awaiting the morning, there are new memories to be made.

My husband and a son have passed on to another life.  I’m blessed with two great-granddaughters to love and enjoy in the coming years.

A small artificial Christmas tree stands proudly before the East window.  Sixty years have passed in this wonderful old farm home where memories are enjoyed every day.

2020

The snow has been slow to arrive this year, but the joys of family are exciting. We have four great-granddaughters to celebrate Christ’s birthday with us this year. Wonderful memories are here and now. Looking forward to the treasures of the future bring love and happiness to the family.

Memories Are Made From This

http://www.thatremindsme.net

copyright@2020

By maryannetuck

The future is right ahead of me and new projects seem to beckon... Friends and memories of times past remain with me today. I love to share my stories along with comments and opinions (of course) of today's challenges. Photography is my hobby and opportunities to capture the scenes before me are mine for the taking. Born and raised in Michigan, the peaceful woods and wildlife trails have always attracted me. Graduating from high school in the early fifties, college was of no interest to me. I have learned one important fact about life; whover decided when a person becomes "old"...didn't know what they were talking about...My theory is; you're as old as you think you are....(I'm thinking about it..haven't decided yet.)

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