she treasures

still in her cozy dotted pajamas and soft robe, she sits reading and savoring a cup of hot coffee. under the dome by stephen king lays in her lap, whispering her name, a siren call of "finish me, you know you want to". she looks at the room full of plastic containers and wonders how long it will take to decorate the tree this year. so much joy has come from all the years of collecting and making ornaments. but as she's aged the actual decorating feels more like work than it used to.

she wanders into the art room and checks g-mail. yeah, two more etsy orders for prints and notecards. she adds them to the mental list of things to do. this time of year, there are multiple lists to be prioritized and completed -- the shopping list, the art list, the food list, the post office list. hubby has suggested that an i-phone would be a great way to keep the lists organized in one convenient place. she knows it's true but still holds out. how can she tout a simpler life when she adds one more electronic device to her daily life? no, she thinks, i won't get one; i must be strong and hold to my convictions.

knowing she can't stall and play all day, she attacks the multitude of christmas ornament containers. the balls come first, some as new as 3 days old and others purchased in 1974 when she first took up housekeeping as a new wife. hanging the balls is a mindless task; this is the 35th year she's decorated a tree in her own home. so many years gone by so quickly. will she really be 57 in just a few days? is she truly the mother of two 30-somethings? she experiences a few melancholy moments of loneliness or maybe it's just longing for what is gone and can never be again.

she feels munchy and heads to the fridge for a quick snack, settling on sharp cheddar cheese, triscuits, a sliced yellow delicious apple and a large glass of ice water.  between bites she starts placing the special ornaments -- the wooden square matt made in kindergarten in 1983, the beaded ornaments her grandma j made in the 70's, the plush snowmen with stick arms she made a few years back. each holds a cherished memory and is placed in a prime spot on the tree. among her favorites are the whirlygig ornaments with small metal wings that spin around when placed over a light bulb on the tree. the heat from the bulb makes the metal spin and glisten on the tree. she remembers when her mom first bought them and how she loved them as a child.  she recalls all the children over the years who have looked at them with wonder. one day she will hand them and so many other ornaments down to her kids and grandkids.

she treasures these moments so much. each ornament sparks a memory, a vision of earlier times when she was an awe-filled child; a naive, hope-filled young mother; or a mature woman still yearning to change the world. each of these stages, these reflections of herself she treasures.