Peace on Earth?

Dressed for Christmas, as usual.

I don't know how many years we've been hanging this wreath for Christmas. My children were young teens and now they are in their early 30s. At first it was easy. The kids and their friends thought it was vaguely "hippy," which added to my reputation as the Cool Mom (and earned me the opportunity to have all the young people piled into my house year after year, making noise--a privilege I took seriously).

The wreath morphed through time. I spent many a winters' day on the porch, surrounded by greenery clipped from my neighbor's evergreens, wiring branches to the peace symbol. Some years I raided the local marshes for wispy grass to arrange around the edge. Those were lush times, seasons when I had the focus and love to spend on dressing the porch for joyful holidays. The house was full of young people, always, and making happy memories for them was one of my top jobs.

Then the hard days came. My son joined the Marines and eventually served in Iraq. Suddenly, the wreath had many meanings. Hanging it became an act of faith, or defiance, or sorrow, all shrouded with ambiguity. I stopped wiring greens to it and the wreath hung bare, disintegrating. Finally it died.

I would have let it disappear, like so many other things in my life....the children were grown and gone. The empty nest echoed with holiday silence. Looking like a hippie no longer had cache'. But my husband, Chad, wouldn't give up on it. He found a sturdy hoop, bought new lights and a silver boa. He was determined to hold onto Christmas, if only with a remade wreath.

So! Here we are again, another year slid by so quickly, another Christmas. My son is in Kuwait. My daughter will spend the holidays in Barcelona, Marrakesh and Paris. We'll have an Old People's dinner with my aunt and uncle. Thank God for Chop, who will be the only person under 60 at the table.

Maybe, one day, we'll have some grandchildren--young people, running around the house, eating everything and breaking a few chotskies.They'll  make a lot of noise, point to the wreath and ask what it means. I'll tell them:

"It means that hope never dies."