I'm Sentimental Like That

I keep things that have little or no monetary value, but which are priceless to me. For example, I still have notes passed to me in Junior High School. They are folded in that silly way young girls fold their notes and they include content such as:

“You love Brad, don’t you? I can tell!!!” and “Mr. Slate is the worst History teacher EVER!!” They are all signed “Friends Forever” or “Longer Letter Later”. There is a lot of unnecessary punctuation and some funny little drawings.

Seriously, it is ridiculous to keep these – I know that. I don’t remember Mr. Slate and I have no idea who Brad was….but these bits of folded up notepaper evoke in me memories of a time and place long gone. They remind me of friends who I thought I’d never ever grow apart from, but grow apart we did. These little notes make me smile.

I’m sentimental like that.

You’ll find evidence of my sentimentality in every room of our home.

I have an ancient vegetable strainer that belonged to my dear Grandmother who passed away long ago. It’s battered and dented and the little knob is gone. I still drain my veggie pan with it and every time I do, my mind wanders (however briefly) to memories of her. Could I buy a new strainer that is not dented and has all knobs intact? Yes, but I won’t.

I still snuggle up with the soft yellow blanket that covered me in my first twin bed as a very young child. That blanket sat in the corner with me when I was in trouble and went with me to a college dorm. Now it serves as a perfect TV-watching blanket, and even though it has patches and is worn almost out – I can’t bear to replace it.

So you see, I’m sentimental like that.

That sentimentality goes into overdrive at Christmas. Every ornament has a story. Every decoration has a history. Our home becomes a hodge-podge of color and festive decor and lights. Nothing matches per se. Our tree is not color-coordinated, and we don’t really have a theme. Everything you see is there because we love it, or because we love whoever gave it to us. It’s there because it stirs up holiday happiness in our hearts.

The ornaments on our tree are dated (either by the manufacturer or by me with a fine line sharpie). I love being able to pick up the red and green rocking horse and read on the bottom that it came from my Dad in 1995. I get a kick out of the God’s Eye ornament my little brother made for me when he was six (1989), or the first Santa ornament that Hubby got me when we first started dating (2003), or the sweet angel that came from my Mom in 2000. When we decorate the tree, it’s like a living scrapbook. Now that we have Little Guy, there are even more fun ornaments to arrange on the tree. The big white ball with his hand print from last year, and the small red hanging frame that has a picture of his tiny baby face from his first Christmas. I envision decorating together as a family as he gets older. As each ornament goes on the tree we can tell a story of a person, or a time or a place that we are fondly reminded of.

It will be sweet. It will be sentimental. And, as you know…that’s how I like it.