The sign was almost unreadable through the misty fog that gray December morning. Still, an inexplicable force caused me to veer off the road, in search of their house. Admonishing myself for being so easily distracted (from my intended Christmas shopping), I found myself in front of an old house with garage doors flung open. "Who has a garage sale in December?", I thought to myself.....
A couple, at least 85 years old, smiled sweetly, their snow white hair almost glowing in the dark garage. After inspecting some old remnants of what appeared to be a long and happy life together, I began to leave.
A single random glance to the cement floor revealed six boxes, tightly sealed with tape, one stacked on top of the other, and clearly marked 50 cents each. They had been sealed for years.
Gently, I pulled the tape off and inside were twelve of the most breathtakingly beautiful glass ornaments I had ever seen. Crafted from the thinnest glass imaginable, each indented with a sparkling silver center, they were as light as a feather. The colors were like none I had never seen: the pink from a sunset, the azure blue of a mountain lake, deep amber gold, pale Easter egg green, and the richest royal red I had ever seen.
Each was marked "Made in Germany". They were so old, and so precious, that I was immediately enchanted with their beauty. Even in the darkness of the cold garage, they shimmered. They gleamed. They seemed to shine with a light all their own. And as I held one up over my head in a kind of stunned appreciation, a little magic took place.
I was certain I could see a reflection in that glass ball of a Christmas long ago. The glass ball was nestled among foil icicles and multi colored lights, on a very tall Christmas tree. A little girl sat in awe.
Was it a memory from the furthest corner of my mind? Or did this glass ball, hidden away for so many years, have the magic to reveal a part of its past?
I was so moved by this experience that I gathered up all six boxes, and stammered to the owners, "Please. You cannot sell these."
After a long silence, they smiled and looked at each other. "I'll never have another Christmas tree. We got those the first year we were married. Please, if you like them, take them." What could she possibly mean, she would NEVER have another Christmas tree?
I couldn't ask her because a lump was forming in my throat. I was near tears. Who was I to inherit such a treasure?
Fumbling through my purse, I handed her the three dollars and left. I went home and threw away every little plastic cartoon character, every little animal wearing a wreath around its neck, and every smiley face snowman ornament.
That year, and every year since, my tree wears nothing except those 6 boxes of 1940's ornaments and hundreds of tiny white lights. They still shine with a magical light, this many years later, captivating all who see them.
About 2 weeks after purchasing the six boxes, and a few days before Christmas, I found myself turning off the same road, and driving up to their house. I needed to tell them that their Christmas tree would live on for years to come. I needed to explain how much I would cherish those 1940's ornaments from this year forward, and how much joy they had given me.
But I was too late. The house was dark, and vacant, with a FOR SALE sign on the front lawn.
Although I will never know who they were, or why they would never have another Christmas tree, I know the Spirit of Christmas Past shimmers from my tree each year with a kind of light that transends the here and now.
And that I will never forget the year I received an inheritance from a stranger.
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