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New Traditions

New Traditions

by
Mary Bradford

 

It’s great to stretch my wings. That crammed box of decorations sure is uncomfortable. Robyn’s hubby shoved me in there last year. I see he is eyeing me up again. I’m so sure he doesn’t like me.
“Honey, why don’t we go with a theme for this year’s tree? Red and gold with a bright cheerful star on top! It is our second Christmas together being married. New traditions and all that.”
I see a shadow cross Robyn’s face as he hands me to her. She brushes my tangled hair with her fingertips and straightens my halo a bit.
“What do you say?” he urges in a whisper.
I look at my dress. It’s tattered and worn, my wings are a bit wonky and my halo is limp. I hold my breath. I do look old.
“But my angel has always been on top. She’s as old as me. Dad bought her when I was born. An angel for my angel, he always said.” Her voice choking.
She won’t abandon me, will she? I’m her angel, I’m supposed to be on top of the tree. She and I go way back, does that not count?

***

Hubby got his way.
The tree did look pretty dressed in the rich colours. I sit beneath it amongst white teddies wearing silly hats, reindeers, and singing Santas too. A different view, but I’m doing my best not to feel hurt. Why shouldn’t I be under the tree? Even I know time brings changes. Yet the memories of Christmases past, when her chubby little fingers held me tight as her father lifted us high to reach the top. Or the time, I fell off and the dog ran off with me. Another time, well you know… memories.

***

Robyn lifts me on to the table. She’s dusting me down and measuring me. What’s this? Cream lace, pearl buttons, fancy trimmings are scattered about me.
“Oh, Angel, you don’t belong hidden away.” Robyn speaks with warmth.
Placing me on a shelf, next to a framed photo, I feel fresh and new.
“You sit there and watch over me, like Dad does.”
Oh here comes Hubby. What will he say?
Robyn hugs him and whispers softly, “While making new traditions, let’s not forget the old either.”
He smiles and kisses the tip of her nose.
My halo glows with happiness, as bright as the star on the tree.

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