My dad bought it Back In The Day. Back in the day when I was still a kid. Living with four siblings, our mom and our dad, and the requisite number of cats and dogs. We had chaotic and busy holidays. Five kids will naturally do that.
After our parents died, that wreath became part of my inheritance. It showed up in the mail one day – inside of the original box – my oldest sister sent it to me. It looked pretty much the same as I remembered it.
Except for the gold ribbon. I added it the first year that I hung the wreath on my front door. To spruce it up. And, the long streamer ribbons? Those were this year’s Sprucing Up.
Here’s some more of the back story. The wreath that my dad bought such a long time ago hangs on the outside door of the house that HIS parents lived in for 20-plus years before my husband and I bought it.
We bought it (my grand parents’) house 22 years ago. The wreath has been in my possession for 8 years. It’s an old wreath. But. To my neighbors who walk past our house on a daily basis, it’s 8 years new.
Each time I add something to change how it looks, it’s newer still.
There will come a time when it will have worn out its welcome. When it will be time to throw it away. When I have emotionally detached myself from the memories it holds so that pitching it will feel right. And not just right. It will feel necessary.
Just not yet.