Childhood Memory of Christmas

author 100 x 100When I was younger, my family’s next-door neighbor, gave my mom a Christmas gift. Instantly, I fell in love.

She was made of styrofoam, fuzzy pipe cleaners, sequins, and curly hair. A regular pipe cleaner was used to fasten her to the top of the Christmas tree which Mom did for many years. Until she found another she liked better. The littlest angel was retired.

I am a huge retro fan and begged my mom for the angel. She wouldn’t give it to me. I didn’t press her for a reason or badger her to turn it over. Every now and again, I would ask and she would say no. littlest angel

Sometime later, I frequented my favorite flea market and found my own little angel. She didn’t have hair and an eye had gone missing. But I didn’t care. I had one of my own to cherish.

Then Mom died and my sisters and I went through her things. I secretly hoped in my heart we would find her angel, and we did! So now, I have two. They sit on a bookcase shelf in my office for me to love every single day.

Often writers are asked where ideas come from for stories. I knew I needed to tell my littlest angel story. And I did in Sommerville holidays….

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The Littlest Angel

Two people. One ornament for the tree. Can a twosome find common ground and discover the true meaning of Christmas?

Bright and early on Saturday morning at the Sommerville fairgrounds, I slowly strolled along an aisle at my favorite flea market, pausing to look at special goodies that caught my eye. I halted when I saw a woman several booths ahead of me stoop in front of a table and drag a box to her feet. She reached inside the ragged cardboard container and pulled out something I knew deep, deep within my heart what I hoped to find for many years—a little Christmas angel.
I always hoped I would find a replacement and searched the dusty aisles of the Automobile Building, where the market set up the first weekend of every month. I dug through many a ripped carton or dirty bag and never saw anything close—until today.
Pressing my hands to my chest, I begged quietly, “Please. Please don’t take her. Please don’t.”

Find your holiday ever after at: Amazon  KU