I remember the Christmases
when I made everything…
a boxwood wreath, a kissing
ball, an apple pineapple tree,
seven different kinds of cookies,
hot fudge sauce, and bourbon
nut bread to name a few…
and one year furniture for a
doll house. No artificial greens
dared appear in my home!
And now at 80,
my large and small trees
are artificial, and the greens
around my lamp post and
mailbox are fake as is one
inside wreath. The one on
the door is real only because
it was a gift! My younger self
would be appalled but my
80-year-old self just smiles
and wonders how I had
the energy to do what I did!
December 11, 2022 at 2:42 pm
Betty, your younger preparations sound exquisite and now your older ones sound wise and also exquisite. A lovely lesson for us all.
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December 11, 2022 at 3:03 pm
I loved this, Betty. Your poetry writing 80 year old self captured the change aging brings perfectly.
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December 12, 2022 at 7:54 pm
I am only 67, Betty, and I have scaled down oh so much. It is all ok. We can celebrate as we wish. And I bet you didn’t have time back when to write such lovely poetry.
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