Tiny Bit of Christmas Wrapped in Tradition

Where does recycling stop and tradition begin?

Mother was a born saver. She recycled long before it became trendy. Her closets bulged with items still too good to throw away. Down in the basement, around the corner from her “hoarding room,” she saved for Christmas. All the trappings were there--right down to the tags.

Year after year, she delighted in using the same foil paper for Aunt Elaine, recycling a red satin ribbon on Daddy’s gift, and refilling Grandpa’s Santa-shaped box.

While I was just a kid, I didn’t notice, but after almost a decade, I realized my special gifts always had the same two angel tags.

Soon they became a piece of the giant puzzle that is my holiday season--an integral part of my Christmas.

By the time I established my own home, those recycled tags, once regarded as Mother’s silly whim, were precious, irreplaceable treasures--part of my holiday ritual.

After 45 years, the faded tags still adorned my gifts. I penned a thank-you letter to Mother, and as usual, enclosed the tags for her to store and reuse.

A week later, I received a letter from the postal department saying they were sorry, but the contents had been damaged in transit. Included was half an envelope with my return address.

A wave of nausea gripped me as I realized it was the letter to Mother. My tags were gone. Even though I don’t consider myself a sentimental person, I was devastated.

About two weeks later, Mother wrote to say she had received an envelope from the post office. Inside was a small corner of an envelope showing only her box number and ZIP code.

Miraculously, the tags were still tucked inside, making it possible for this tiny bit of tradition to continue. . . .