Tinkling of the Angel Chimes

I can't remember where my mother bought what turned out to be one of my favorite Christmas decorations when growing up. As a child you don't wonder about that. You only look for it every year when the biggest fresh cut tree ever is brought into the house and the decorating begins.

Our Christmas trees always reached about to the ceiling and took up more space than needed in the living room. My mother was the official decorator. She was quite particular as to what went where-except for the angel candle chimes. At some point in my young life I'd made it apparent that I wanted to be in charge of taking the parts to the chimes out of the same old box as the year before and the year before that. So from that point on, my mother would hand me that box without saying a word. She'd relinquished her role of official decorator to me-at least when it came to the angel chimes. I'm thinking now it might have been because that responsibility was one I took rather seriously and because it kept me busy and quiet. I would sit at the dining room table and carefully take out every piece of that decoration one at a time. Then I would spread the pieces out and take a minute to look at them-back again to welcome Santa Claus and relatives coming for the traditional Christmas Eve dinner that included oyster broth served with a silver ladle.

I'd slowly begin the process of putting the angel chime decoration together for another Christmas season. I went at a snail's pace because I loved playing a role in our Christmas celebration. I loved every piece of that decoration. When it came time to put the delicate little angels in place I'd feel my heart beat a little faster. And when I'd slowly put that certain angel on the top I felt a happiness like no other. When all the pieces were in place I'd go the highboy, pull open a drawer and take out a cardboard box holding the small white candles. Those candles were just for the angel decoration. They were always in that drawer waiting for me.

The angel candle chime was the centerpiece for our Christmas Eve dinner. My father would light the candles. My older brother and I sat in wait as the candles created enough heat to make the angels go fast enough around so they'd gently hit the chimes and magically create the most wondrous sound ever. It was the sound of Christmas. It was Hope and Wonder and Magic all wrapped up in a little decoration of twirling angels tinkling the Spirit of Christmas-of true Peace on Earth, Good Will toward Man and an unflinching Belief in Santa Claus.

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