Through Her Eyes

Over and over and over again the ornaments on the bottom half of our tree find new homes.

Each child has an ornament to commemorate the year they were born, and the hanging of these ornaments is met with no small ceremony. "I remember this ornament. This one is MINE." Then a sacred branch is found for it to hang for the season.

Eve kept asking me where her ornament was, and with each succeeding layer of ornaments disappearing from the boxes and finding spots on the tree, hers could not be found. She couldn't even remember what hers looked like--a green present with a big red bow--and she would carefully pick up an ornament, look hopefully at my face, then be disappointed again and again. We hung every ornament, and still no green present with a big red bow. Her hopes crushed, she grabbed her silky and cried quietly on the couch as the rest of the family enjoyed the glow from the tree's lights.

A few days later, as I was emptying the last of the green-lidded Christmas boxes, I found it. I placed it carefully on the kitchen counter where I hoped she would see it when she came home from school. She did. "Momma, is this it? Is this MY ornament?" Yes, darling. This is YOUR special ornament. With great care, she carried it to the tree and found a perfect spot for her green present with the big red bow. About once a day she turns it over to read the words written on the bottom. "I know what this says. It says Eve Diana 2009."

Christmas through the eyes of a five year old is sparkly and electric and noisy . . .  and knowing that somewhere on that great big tree is one small place that belongs just to you.