Nashville or Bust

The trip that started a longer journey

December 1

Many Christmastimes ago (15? 20?) my mother-in-law burst into our home, beaming. “Look! I’ve made you a wreath!” Her face full of merriment and pink from the cold, she thrust the wreath towards me before I could even say hello. She was so darned excited to bring this over and tell us how she had started to craft with some of her friends. This was a new thing and a different thing for her. It was a tad curious for us. What would be next?

Now, I had a very good traditional green and red wreath, but sensing her enthusiasm, I quickly swapped wreaths and moved mine to the deck. Jane’s wreath has hung on our door every December since.

A few years ago, one of the apples broke free of its dried pod of hot glue. I found it and tried to re-attach it, but for some reason, every year it would fall off. I tried several different things to keep that apple in place but truth be told, I was always in a rush, never making the time to drag out my glue gun and give it a proper fix. Like a new holiday tradition, each year I’d find something in the kitchen to hold the apple through the season. Last year I must have been really desperate as today I saw the tell-tale sign of my haste–of all things, one of those inverted sticky loops of packing tape was in the little round space where, by design, an apple had been purposely placed. I couldn’t find the apple.

Today would have been Jane’s 80th birthday. Oh, how she was looking forward to this day–to finally, and officially, claim it. The last time she was at our house in July, we had quite the talk. “Can you believe I’m going to be 80?!” she breathed, while her hands absentmindedly played with the strand of beads around her neck. We then laughed as we tried to figure out what sort of bathing suit would be “proper” for an 80-year old beachgoer as we continued to plan for the upcoming family trek to the beach…

Of course, that memory and many others flooded me today while I hung the wreath on the door. Minus the apple. But then, there was that nudge and I knew what to do.

While I couldn’t find a Mrs. Cardinal proper, I did find something that is pretty darned close. And, perhaps by some heavenly design, she even has her own little clip. No need for hot glue, bread twist ties, packing tape or fishing line. The crafting gods knew I’d need the help.

I took a step back to study this bit of new. The bird fit perfectly and settled into her nest. She seemed at home and at peace. “I see you,” she seemed to say. “I see you, too.”

A different design, indeed. ~ Jacqui

 

December 1, 2018 - Posted by | Uncategorized

4 Comments »

  1. I love reading your posts. And thinking of Jane.

    Comment by Peggy | December 1, 2018 | Reply

  2. As usual, a lovely and needed remembrance! I do believe that Jane, just like the bird, is at home and at peace. Blessings to you and your family.

    Comment by Kit Duval | December 1, 2018 | Reply

  3. and now I am crying. Love to you both and your family

    Comment by Denise Wendt Carey | December 2, 2018 | Reply

  4. Bernie and I talked about it being Jane’s birthday on Saturday. Jane shared a birthday with another book club member, Barbara. This wreath is as beautiful as Jane was. Thank you for sharing. Rachel

    Comment by Rachel Foster | December 2, 2018 | Reply


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