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lj idol - week 5 - afterthought
Dec. 3rd, 2010 08:55 pmThis week, amidst cramming for finals and fighting off the last dregs of the worst case of bronchitis I've had since high school, I decided it was time to get the Christmas tree all dolled up. Meridan bought me an artificial one a few weeks ago - a painfully pathetic specimen, but what else could you expect for $20 in the way of full-sized trees? The point is, it's our first tree together. And money being tight as it is, I was determined not to buy large amounts of ornaments. I knew if I went to my mother's and raided the garage, I could make do.
Last Saturday I visited said garage, and came away with plenty of swag. My mother gave me the tree skirt that my great-grandmother handmade, several boxes of beautiful glass ornaments, a good number of funny looking items that I'd made in elementary school, and so on. Every piece we found had a story, of course - we spent hours going through boxes, laughing at memories and occasionally tearing up. My mother and I have a special connection when it comes to family memories. My father barely associated with my mother's family, and being Iranian, he never attended Christmas celebrations with them. My younger brother is only 16, and he has little to no recollection of those Christmases either - my great-grandmother, matriarch of our family, died when he was only 2, and the grand holidays petered out soon afterwards. So my mother and I are the only ones with these particular memories, and sharing them with her is both delightful and difficult.
Buried amongst all the glittery, expensive Christmas baubles, I found a small cardboard box that I recognized instantly. Inside were all of the handmade ornaments that my great aunt Donna had collected at one time. There were beaded wreaths and wire fairies and crocheted snowflakes and so very many cross-eyed embroidered Santas. This was the box I'd been really wanting, and I took the entire thing home without hesitation.
For many years, I spent the first weekend in December at my Great-Aunt Donna's. She needed someone to help decorate her apartment - and she loved to go all out. Angels all over the place, obnoxious battery-operated Santas, window stickers, half-burnt out strings of lights - you name it, she'd find a place for it. I always cringed a little, though, when I had to get out that box of handmade stuff. In my younger years, it all just looked tacky and awful to me. I'd try to avoid putting any of these ornaments on the tree, and if she caught me, I made a point to hide them all in the back or on the bottom where no one would notice them.
Now, Aunt Donna's been gone for over 5 years, and my tree is covered with these craft projects. Perhaps it's because I've started in recent years to be more concerned with making my own handmade hand-me-downs - in fact, the tree also includes some of my own embroidery and crochet this year, minus the crossed eyes. But I suppose part of it might also be the fact that I feel sorry for these little bits and bobs in a way. I ignored them for years in favor of the new and shiny, and those little fairies and Santas sat in the cardboard box, forgotten year after year. Now I can see all the effort that went in to each piece, and I shudder to think of my carefully created ornaments ending up in a ratty box someday, ignored year after year.
It's truly sad how easy it is to appreciate something when it's gone.
written for the LJ Idol competition, season 7, week 5. topic: afterthought.
Last Saturday I visited said garage, and came away with plenty of swag. My mother gave me the tree skirt that my great-grandmother handmade, several boxes of beautiful glass ornaments, a good number of funny looking items that I'd made in elementary school, and so on. Every piece we found had a story, of course - we spent hours going through boxes, laughing at memories and occasionally tearing up. My mother and I have a special connection when it comes to family memories. My father barely associated with my mother's family, and being Iranian, he never attended Christmas celebrations with them. My younger brother is only 16, and he has little to no recollection of those Christmases either - my great-grandmother, matriarch of our family, died when he was only 2, and the grand holidays petered out soon afterwards. So my mother and I are the only ones with these particular memories, and sharing them with her is both delightful and difficult.
Buried amongst all the glittery, expensive Christmas baubles, I found a small cardboard box that I recognized instantly. Inside were all of the handmade ornaments that my great aunt Donna had collected at one time. There were beaded wreaths and wire fairies and crocheted snowflakes and so very many cross-eyed embroidered Santas. This was the box I'd been really wanting, and I took the entire thing home without hesitation.
For many years, I spent the first weekend in December at my Great-Aunt Donna's. She needed someone to help decorate her apartment - and she loved to go all out. Angels all over the place, obnoxious battery-operated Santas, window stickers, half-burnt out strings of lights - you name it, she'd find a place for it. I always cringed a little, though, when I had to get out that box of handmade stuff. In my younger years, it all just looked tacky and awful to me. I'd try to avoid putting any of these ornaments on the tree, and if she caught me, I made a point to hide them all in the back or on the bottom where no one would notice them.
Now, Aunt Donna's been gone for over 5 years, and my tree is covered with these craft projects. Perhaps it's because I've started in recent years to be more concerned with making my own handmade hand-me-downs - in fact, the tree also includes some of my own embroidery and crochet this year, minus the crossed eyes. But I suppose part of it might also be the fact that I feel sorry for these little bits and bobs in a way. I ignored them for years in favor of the new and shiny, and those little fairies and Santas sat in the cardboard box, forgotten year after year. Now I can see all the effort that went in to each piece, and I shudder to think of my carefully created ornaments ending up in a ratty box someday, ignored year after year.
It's truly sad how easy it is to appreciate something when it's gone.
written for the LJ Idol competition, season 7, week 5. topic: afterthought.
