|TRAEA's Grandma sits in awe of the magic.|
The tree just happened every year. And it was gorgeous!
Although memories see tall pines, pictures of Christmases past don't quite match those recollected towering heights.
But one magical memory remains secure. The tree had been decorated, providing the only light in the room, and TRAEA's Grandma was ready for bed. I lay under the tree - waaay underneath, not around the fringes - and looked up through the branches.
Multi-colored lights, bubble lights, a yellow light behind the plastic star way on the top, a red bird ornament with its soft-bristle tail, an ornate glass tea pot, a miniature water mill dusted with artificial snow, large and small round glass balls, silver and red blown-glass pine cones, metal bells that really rang, colored tinsel roping, tinsel strands dutifully placed one at a time.
The moment was completely captivating. And today that memory roars back in full Technicolor every time TRAEA's Grandma unwraps many of those same ornaments to hang on the family tree. I can hardly wait to point them out to our grandchildren this Christmas. Maybe one of them will lay under the tree and look up . . . . .
|TRAEA's Great Uncle sits with his sister after the presents were opened.|