When You Can’t Remember a Memory

That broken Christmas ornament perplexes me.

I’m going to be honest.  It’s sitting in a Donate Box in my garage.  If I can’t remember where it came from by the time that Donate Box leaves the house, it will be gone forever.

Here’s the thing.  Hubby and I have a tradition of buying Christmas ornaments on vacations.  Ornaments that represent special places are a great way to re-live memories during an already sentimental time of year.

But while an end-of-November tree-decorating party involves laughter and eggnog and exclamations of delight as we open boxes full of Christmas treasures, mid-January putting-away isn’t quite so exciting. 

Pretty little baubles start to get on my nerves.

So when I discovered this broken ornament right AFTER Hubby finished hauling the boxes back up to the attic, I was rather irritated.

Especially because I couldn’t figure out where it came from.  Maybe it’s from a vacation?  It seems rather “made-from-native-wood”ish.

Maybe it’s from someone else’s vacation?

I really have no idea.  And I really didn’t feel like dragging out the glue-gun.

Or asking Hubby to take it back up to the attic.

Or going up to the attic myself . . . (Hahahaha!  Like that would ever happen!)

And I really didn’t feel like finding a not-in-the-attic place to store it for next year.  Where I’d probably forget about it anyway.

So I threw gently placed it into the Donate Box.

But still, I felt the nagging guilt that I was decluttering a memory.

Except it’s not really a memory if I can’t actually remember it.

Please note that if you gave me this ornament, or you have one just like it from your family vacation and you DO remember where that vacation was, please let me know.

Actually, only let me know if you’re reading this in January of 2013.  If you’re catching up on old posts and it’s July, please don’t tell me.  It will be gone by then and I’ll just be sad.

 

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--Nony

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