Each year I pull out the Christmas decorations and it’s like a walk down memory lane.
The ornament that Michael made in preschool with his handprint in clay. or the one with Matthew’s picture in the middle of a wreath made of puzzle pieces painted green. Or the one of Glinda the good witch, we got for Delaney tge year she was Glinda in the play.
As I hold each one, I remember the who, what, why of them and I’m whisked back.
There are many that not only bear the scars of time but of that damn dog, Wally. When Wally was that ‘damn dog’ before becoming ‘the best damn dog’. *sigh*
The Santa with his hand chewed off, the angel statuette whose halo has vanished
along with most of her hair/yarn and left eye are two beyond repair. I have tried to mend some and still others were long since thrown away. They’re reminders of a pup that could be destructive when he didn’t get the attention he desired - usually when his primary carer (me) had the audacity to take a shower or go to the bathroom.
I have these shattered or chewed tchotchkes but I don’t have Wally. Just the bittersweet memories that can bring tears to my eyes and reminders of how much I miss and loved that damn dog.
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