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Mama's Ribbons
Mama was strange. I know every family has their own Christmas traditions. My best friend had to wait until after pictures were taken before opening any gifts. The kids next door were allowed to open one gift Christmas eve. Not us, though. My three sisters and I had to save the ribbon on top of our Christmas gift. Since there were so many of us, and Mama never had much money, us kids only got one gift each Christmas. Our one gift was always a new doll that Mama made herself.
The dolls were nice, but saving the ribbon on the gift was just plain dumb. Mama never re-used the ribbons; she made new ones every year. She also made new name tags. Mama drew the tags, complete with the year on each one, and then tied the tags to the ribbons and saved each one every year.
That was just one of Mama’s strange quirks. For some reason, that tradition stuck in my head ever since the funeral. We buried Mama less than a month before Christmas. I didn’t think it would be the same without Mama this year. Mama always brought the family together, now that my sisters and I are grown and married. Two of them even have grandchildren. Last week, we all got together at the old farmhouse in Wills Creek, trying to figure out what to do with all of Mama’s old things. Being the youngest, I was voted to go through the attic.
There were boxes everywhere! I never knew that Mama had collected so much junk. Wiping the dust off of one, I unfolded the flaps and peered inside. It was filled with scraps of paper that had yellowed with age. I rolled my eyes and turned to another dusty box. This one was filled with old lace and faded wood. I coughed as I tried to pull a handful out and stirred up more dust. Why did Mama keep all this garbage?
Frustrated, I pulled another box into the dim light and opened it. Faded colored as I stared at what was inside. I reached in and carefully pulled out the crushed curls of an old ribbon that had been on a Christmas gift. Squinting at the tag, I read: “Too: Mary Ann, with love, 1977". It was the ribbon that had been on my gift the year I turned ten years old. The memory of that Christmas came back to me. I remembered all the fun we had, caroling to the neighbors with our new dolls. I dug into the box and pulled out more ribbons, each one faded, but readable. This one was a keeper.
I went back to the box that had the faded wood in it and, holding my breath, I pulled out a piece that was wrapped in lace and unwrapped it. It was an ink drawing in a wooden frame that Mama had done over fifty years ago! The lace kept it from fading too badly. I pulled out more framed drawings that Mama had done. Several had stains or were faded from age, but each one brought back another memory of Mama. Re-wrapping and re-packing the drawings, I turned back to the first box that held the paper scraps.
I took the top scrap and held it up to the light, recognizing Mama’s handwriting right away. The writing on it described a Christmas past, and another scrap told of her wedding day. There were cuttings from old newspapers, too, and I realized that these scraps were Mama’s version of a diary.
I took the boxes home with me and set up Mama’s ink drawings all over the living room, arranged the diary papers in a photo album, along with some of my own photos, and decorated the Christmas tree with the old ribbons. I invited my sisters and their families over for Christmas this year. It was amazing. It was like Mama was right there with us again.
The dolls were nice, but saving the ribbon on the gift was just plain dumb. Mama never re-used the ribbons; she made new ones every year. She also made new name tags. Mama drew the tags, complete with the year on each one, and then tied the tags to the ribbons and saved each one every year.
That was just one of Mama’s strange quirks. For some reason, that tradition stuck in my head ever since the funeral. We buried Mama less than a month before Christmas. I didn’t think it would be the same without Mama this year. Mama always brought the family together, now that my sisters and I are grown and married. Two of them even have grandchildren. Last week, we all got together at the old farmhouse in Wills Creek, trying to figure out what to do with all of Mama’s old things. Being the youngest, I was voted to go through the attic.
There were boxes everywhere! I never knew that Mama had collected so much junk. Wiping the dust off of one, I unfolded the flaps and peered inside. It was filled with scraps of paper that had yellowed with age. I rolled my eyes and turned to another dusty box. This one was filled with old lace and faded wood. I coughed as I tried to pull a handful out and stirred up more dust. Why did Mama keep all this garbage?
Frustrated, I pulled another box into the dim light and opened it. Faded colored as I stared at what was inside. I reached in and carefully pulled out the crushed curls of an old ribbon that had been on a Christmas gift. Squinting at the tag, I read: “Too: Mary Ann, with love, 1977". It was the ribbon that had been on my gift the year I turned ten years old. The memory of that Christmas came back to me. I remembered all the fun we had, caroling to the neighbors with our new dolls. I dug into the box and pulled out more ribbons, each one faded, but readable. This one was a keeper.
I went back to the box that had the faded wood in it and, holding my breath, I pulled out a piece that was wrapped in lace and unwrapped it. It was an ink drawing in a wooden frame that Mama had done over fifty years ago! The lace kept it from fading too badly. I pulled out more framed drawings that Mama had done. Several had stains or were faded from age, but each one brought back another memory of Mama. Re-wrapping and re-packing the drawings, I turned back to the first box that held the paper scraps.
I took the top scrap and held it up to the light, recognizing Mama’s handwriting right away. The writing on it described a Christmas past, and another scrap told of her wedding day. There were cuttings from old newspapers, too, and I realized that these scraps were Mama’s version of a diary.
I took the boxes home with me and set up Mama’s ink drawings all over the living room, arranged the diary papers in a photo album, along with some of my own photos, and decorated the Christmas tree with the old ribbons. I invited my sisters and their families over for Christmas this year. It was amazing. It was like Mama was right there with us again.