The strings of Christmas lights were frayed, they had been wrapped in tape many times over the years.  The old ornaments lay in a fruit box.  Broken glass littered the bottom, broken memories of Christmases past.  A layer of dust dulled the shine of the colored glass.  To someone else, they may have seemed like tattered dreams. But to the child, these were the most treasured of possessions.

Her father carried the box down from the attic and placed it before the naked tree.

He wrapped another layer of black electric tape around the exposed wire.  He carefully replaced the bulbs that had been shattered or blown out.  He warned her to be careful as she reached into the fruit box to pull out the ornaments.  Together, they dressed the tree and applied the finishing touch with tinsel.  The lamps in the house were turned off and the Christmas tree was lit.  The child squeezed herself into the recliner beside her father as Perry Como’s record played on the phonograph.  They admired their work and were content to be in each other’s company.   Neither knowing that just like the broken ornaments, this moment would one day become a broken memory.  Pieces of it left behind, fractured and dusty at the back of the child’s mind.

I miss you dad.

http://www.theresadodaro.com   Author of The Tin Box Trilogy