I took down my tree this week and couldn't find an ornament that I particularly treasure. It's a rocking horse with three little boys on it, and I received it when Ken Cannon and I just had three sons. Every year I put it in the same spot and remember when we lived in the old house in the Marmalade District.
Anyway. I couldn't find it when I began packing up. I searched through the branches and needles, the hysteria mounting, but to no avail.
Then I remembered the conversation I'd had with Shelley a few nights earlier. Shelley has a baby at Primary and three little girls at home. Somehow she's managing to manage, and I'm in awe. Truly. We talked about the baby, of course, but we also touched briefly on what it was like to have a dad in the military. Her family moved a lot, which taught her to let go of things, because you know. They're only things.
Remembering that conversation as I searched for the lost ornament calmed me down, and I was all que sera, que sera.
But I won't lie. I was thrilled nigh unto tears when Ken found that ornament lying facedown on the sidewalk in front of our house later that day.