There’s a feeling in the air,
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so real I actually breathe it in.
I close my eyes
and inhale it.
Time approaches quickly and
deep inside lurks
the subtle suspicion that
there’s someone, somewhere
playing with our clock.
No longer a child,
I’m not easily fooled
but these feelings take me back,
rewinding to moments of
laughter and excitement.
I begin a search for
the hidden treasure,
a box that is worn and ragged too.
With shaking hands I remove the cover and
release the magic suppressed inside.
Peeking out before me,
I see a handful of crocheted snowflakes.
I’m sure grandma had sore fingers
while perfecting each and every one.
There’s wooden figured trains
and toy soldiers,hand painted
by my brother and I,
and the tattered ornament of our
first Christmas,dated 1985.
There are snowmen and decorations
made by our children so long ago.
A lifetime has passed since they were small,
only remnants remain of them,
for there are young men standing
in their places now.
Tears form in my eyes making all
these things a blur.
I am sure they are of no value
to others but they’re worth a fortune
in memories and love.
Store bought ornaments seem
the least impressive, not crystal,
gold nor porcelain replace
these family jewels.
Each year we place them
one by one upon our tree,
and as they recount the story
of our life we know
this is truly our Christmas treasure.
I am on a journey. Looking for Me. Everyday I get a little closer. The more time goes by the more I realize I'm always changing. This journey could take forever... Renae L. Soler