This year, and every year around Christmas time, I carefully carry down from the attic a box of tree decorations. I like to sit by the tree and unwrap each ornament carefully preserved from years past. Every bulb and ornament carries with it a memory. I unwrap each with anticipation, looking it over and letting it take me back to a distant memory. It is a ritual I perform each year.
There’s an egg my brother Mike made when he was in the second grade. It is purple with a line of glitter reading, “Merry Christmas, Mom”. A little red sleigh pulled by a single horse was my Grandmother’s favorite. My brother, Jack, is represented by the Star Ship Enterprise and a space shuttle. Each piece has a memory and each piece is special. My favorite is the Angel. She is made from glass and gleams like a diamond. I remember being six years old and feeling her for the first time….
“She’s warm!” I exclaimed as the old woman placed her in my hand.
“You think?” Mrs. Wentzel said with a smile. “Its just your imagination.” She was the vendor across from my mom’s stand at Jamie’s Flea Market.
I felt the glass angel carefully and held her up so I could see the lights from the ceiling shine through her. It was like looking through a kaleidoscope. “How much is she?” I asked.
“She’s not for sale,” replied the grey haired lady.
“She sure is pretty,” I said.
Mrs. Wentzal came out from behind her stand. She knelt down to my level and looked me directly in the eyes. She had beautiful blue eyes and I remember thinking these aren’t the eyes of an old woman. “Marky,” she said, “This angel is very special and passed down to me by my mother. She got it from her mother, who got it from her great grandfather, a preacher and a glassblower. He made it. Every first of December it gets warm and starts to glow, but only after its placed on the Christmas tree. Every day as Christmas approaches it gets brighter and brighter until Christmas day is here.”
“Wow.” I said.
“You see, Marky,” Mrs. Wentzal said, “My mother told me this angel would grant its owner one wish on Christmas day when she glows the brightest. The wish must contain the Christmas Spirit, and a child must make the wish. Only if the child believes will the wish come true. One wish is all you get and the wish must be made on the first Christmas day after you acquire it.”
“Now I see why you won’t sell it.” I said, trying to hand the angel back to her.
She ignored my attempt to return the angel and while standing up said, “The angel is yours now. Remember to hang it on your Christmas tree and make a wish on Christmas day. When you are old like me, pass it on to another child and make magic begin again.”
That was the year I learned what “The Christmas Spirit” really means, and wishes on little glass angels really can come true.
…Now, as I hold this beautiful angel in my hand, I wonder if my granddaughter will believe, as I believed, and wonder what miracle she will make come true.