Bells Are Ringing

On this day in 1971 my mom married my stepfather. It was a beautiful candlelight ceremony, held in the little chapel of our church. I was, at 6 years old, the cutest flower girl ever, but I insisted that everyone call me a bridesmaid. The reception, for family and very close friends only, was at our house afterward.

When the evening ended my mom took the bell off the top of the wedding cake and she hung it on our Christmas tree. Every year she lovingly packed that bell away and every December 10th she hung it on the Christmas tree. This went on until Christmas 1998, when she wasn’t there to hang it up anymore. My dad never put up a tree after that and a few years ago he gave me all of their old ornaments to hang on our tree. The bell, however, wasn’t with them and I assumed that he threw it away, as he threw so much away after my mom died.

And then this summer Dale was sorting through some things in the garage and he came across a box that we had taken from my dad’s house last winter. He called to me and said I should take a look and there, wrapped in tissue paper, was the bell.

It has disintegrated some but it is remarkable how much remains considering that it is 38 years old and made of sugar.

I brought it in the house and saved it to blog about it today. My plan was to take some pictures to preserve it and then throw it away.

You know what, though? I think I’m going to hang it on my Christmas tree one last time.

Happy Anniversary, Mom and Dad.