Yesterday, I decorated my Christmas tree and as I took out each ornament, I realized I was unpacking nearly 38 years of memories.

My five children are grown now, with homes of their own and traditions they’re creating, but on my Christmas tree, little pieces of their childhood still find their place every year. There are ornaments from each of their first Christmases—ones I bought, ones their grandmothers and their aunt chose, and others given by family who loved them. Some are nearly 38 years old now. I pick one up, and there’s a story. Then another, and there’s a whole different memory.

I suppose my tree is a scrapbook on branches. Every year, I get to turn the pages.

And at the very top is a construction paper star with my third child’s kindergarten picture on it. It’s about 27 years old now, and it still graces the top of my tree every Christmas. I’ve never found a tree topper I’d rather have.

As I hung everything yesterday, I wondered which ornaments my children will treasure years from now. Which ones will they carefully unwrap and smile at? What little handmade decoration will earn a permanent place on their tree?

That’s one of the lovely things about traditions. We carry some with us, change a few, and make room for new ones as our lives grow.

My children are making Christmas their own now, and I love that. Meanwhile, here in my home, I’m finding just the right branch for another memory.

And that construction paper star? It’s right where it belongs.

Wishing you love and light,

~Anne Dennish~