Every Ornament Has A Story
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Every Ornament Has A Story

How ornaments have shown my life story.

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Every Ornament Has A Story
Photos by John O'Brien, Jr. @Jobjr

It was crisp; the ground crunched. Walking tall, back bent like an ironwood, rusting through at the core, I walked into the storage shed; the smashed glass, heaped mound of memories on the floor in a sickening moment of surprise, shards revealed in the entering light. Smashed Ornaments and smashed Dickens Village pieces carry the memories of Christmas friendship and anticipation, travel, milestones and maybe, in introspection, a message to let go the past?

Dickens Village and my mom have always been interlinked and will forever be Christmas in my mind. I’ve always had a fascination with history, and “what was it like then…”. When I was young, I sat in the tree-only lit dark of the living room, Dicken’s Village spread before me, creating stories in my head of people and places only visited in books and TV specials. As I grew, I added to the characters by getting mom more Dicken’s Village pieces for Christmas. She loves them as I much as I, tho I realize now, we never entered those stories together.

Whenever I travel, I try to pick up an ornament, a memory trigger usually sparking a smile and a 2nd trip to where I went before. I don’t have many memories, a score and a quarter of meds have stripped them from my mind; I traded total recall for less simmering joints. Since I now had a clean slate of ornaments and Dickens Village, I began purchasing memories. Pulled triggers can coax more recent memories, so I have learned to purchase the forces that squeeze the trigger.

warmth and a fresh cut tree,
scones baking,
and hot mugs of tea
deliver the paper
on silent dark Christmas morns
tattoos the message,
of when and why Christ was born.
From Phoenix,
And FEMA
from Niagara on the Lake,
on silent dark Christmas morns
tattoos the message,
of when and why Christ was born.

From Phoenix,

And FEMA

O Cleveland, found at Niagara on the Lake,

from Cozumel,

from childhood, made by my mom

Painted by mom,

painted by my Godchild niece,

from college or

from childhood, the lone crash survivor, Echoes of Ireland

The year I got one for all my Godchildren, and wanted to remember that, so I got another ornament for my mind.

I wish you a Merry Christmas, full of light, love and remembrance of life, and the reason for the season.

Comments on the blog itself, Likes and especially comments on Facebook, retweets and Favs on Twitter, all help share my writing and bring me to rippling audiences awareness. Reaching audience is the lifeblood of any writer. I greatly appreciate any help in that. Please share if you think I have earned it.

I write about things that matter to me, I’ve learned, or simply wish to pass on; Be Happy, it is one way of being wise. Please share your story with me; thank you for allowing me to share mine with you.

“Follow me where I go, what I do and who I know;

http://songsandstories.net/myblog/feed/ www.songsandstories.net www.facebook.com/OhioIrishAmericanNews www.twitter.com/jobjr Instagram: LiveMoreLifeBeMoreIrish

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This article has not been reviewed by Odyssey HQ and solely reflects the ideas and opinions of the creator.
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