"Hold it, Joe, we're decoratin' the tree, not climbin' it!" Hoss admonished, swinging the eight year-old off of the hearth where he was straining to place an angel on an upper branch.

"I can do it, Hoss!" Joe protested as his older brother took the ornament from his hand.

"Yeah, but it'll be more likely to stay in one piece if I do it, and so will you!" Hoss's rejoinder made Ben and Adam laugh.

I would have laughed if I could, but there are certain limitations when one is a piece of wood, and an old piece of wood at that. This Christmas would be the 19th since Ben first carved me out of a piece of firewood. As Hoss slipped me onto the branch, I remembered that first moment...

"Well, I guess she's about done." the voice accompanied the sensation of being held, firmly but gently.

"What is it, Pa?" a lisping voice of a toddler asked.

I was placed into the hands of a dark-haired child. If possible, I stiffened even more. But the boy was extremely careful.  He looked me over slowly, then back to the man for an answer.

"It's a Christmas angel, Adam."

"An angel...like Mama?" the lisping voice was eager.

The man took me back and gazed at me. A tear splashed on the end of my dress, "Yes, like Mama."

I studied the man.  He was young, certainly not out of his twenties, but grief had already put deep lines in his face, and there were a few silvery hairs at his temples, despite his youth.  My new family had been marked by tragedy, but I hoped to see better days with them. 

There was no Christmas tree that year, but I occupied a special corner in the wagon that was their home as they traveled West.    For Ben, I was something to gaze at when the memories were strong; I could see the bittersweet expression in his eyes.  Little Adam seemed to nearly idolize me, his “Mama’s angel”, as he called me.  Often, when there was a storm and the child awoke, I would feel little fingers tracing the outline of my wings, and at times touching my face.  I often wanted to kiss those little fingers; the poor child seemed so lonely.  But every time, after touching me for a moment, he would settle down and go right to sleep.

                                      ********************

But there were other Christmases, after Inger entered the family, when there was a tree filled with such homemade ornaments as myself. 

“Ben, did you make this angel?” she asked, holding me gently. 

“Yes, when we first started heading West.” he replied, looking at me, that bittersweet expression in his eyes again.

“That’s Mama’s angel!” Adam volunteered as he busied himself pulling Inger’s quilted ornaments out of a box.

“Oh?” Inger looked at me a little closer, “I’m sure your Mama was very much like an angel, Adam.”

                                      ******************

When Inger died, once again there was no tree, but I was brought out to put on the mantel of the cabin that had been their home. 

Adam took pride in pointing me out to his little brother Hoss, “That’s my Mama’s angel, she came with us to where we met Mama Inger, your Mama!”

The toddler stretched up an inquisitive hand, but it was Adam who held me for him to see, “Be careful, Hoss, she’s a very special angel.”

                                      ******************

When Marie joined the family, the huge tree in the great room of their house was festively decorated, with shiny new ornaments mingling with the old homey ones I knew so well.  Marie had the wonderful quality of bringing her own special sparkle to the family, without trying to remove or replace the past.

Adam, now a ten year-old, carefully brought me out and showed me to Marie, “This is my Mama’s angel.  Pa made her right after Mama died, and she watched over us our whole trip West.”

Marie’s eyes were misty as she took me and hung me on a high bough, “Then we’ll put her up here, where she can still watch over you.”

                                      ********************

When Marie died, I was surprised there was still a tree, but by then, Hoss was a young boy, Little Joe an energetic toddler, and Adam a teenager that I thought didn’t smile enough.  So, Ben put up a tree, although I don’t think the younger two boys appreciated the effort it cost him.

I noticed that Adam never introduced me to Joe as “my Mama’s angel”.  Somehow, watching the little family, I didn’t mind.

                                      **********************

The Christmases grew festive again, and then Adam left for college. He agreed to wait until his second year to make the trip home; it was too expensive for him to do it more than once. So, they settled on the second Christmas, the middle of his stint at college, as the time for him to come back.

That was this year, and it was wonderful to see the four of them back together. Adam smiled more now, and laughed freely, something that had never been common with him as a child.

I proudly watched "my family" decorate the tree, although I had a few worried moments as Joe attempted to help with the top branches, and once Hoss bumped the tree. But all too soon it seemed, everything was done, and it was time for them to go to bed. Joe protested, as I expected him to.

"But, Pa, it's Christmas Eve! Can't I stay up a little later?"

"Son, it's practically 11 now! If you want to be up early to open presents, you'd better skedaddle, and now!" Ben told him with a smile, wrapping him in a hug.

The reminder was enough to send Joe toward the stairs, but he paused again, "Can't I wait until Hoss comes up?" he tried again.

Hoss smiled and gave a shrug to his father and Adam, "I'm headed up anyway, Little Joe, let's go."

Joe ran over and wrapped his arms around Adam's waist, "Good night, Adam! I'm glad you're home!"

"Good night, Little Joe." Adam said with a slight catch in his voice.

"I'll be up in a minute to tuck you in." the words came from both Ben and Adam at the same time. They looked at each other and laughed heartily while Joe and Hoss just rolled their eyes and chased each other up the stairs.

I was so glad they had laughed, there had been a time when that would have been a painful reminder. But tonight, it seemed, nothing could make them unhappy.

"Come on, Adam, I guess we should go to bed too, Joe's going to have us up hours before dawn in the morning." Ben smiled.

"The one day of the year he's up early." Adam chuckled. He sobered as he eyed the tree, "It's one of the prettiest we've ever had, Pa."

Ben came over and put his hand on Adam's shoulder, "I'm sorry we didn't have very many when you were little, Adam."

Adam's eyes focused on me, "Mama's angel." he murmured, reaching up to trace the outline of my wing. Then he turned and said briskly, "It's alright, Pa, I wouldn't appreciate them so much now if it had been any other way."

Ben nodded, and then they turned toward the stairs. I wondered if Adam had been able to push back the tears I had seen in his eyes before his Pa saw them. Somehow, I doubted it, though I doubted even more that Ben would acknowledge them. He knew how to deal with Adam.

I shook off my pensive mood; the best part of the night was yet to come.  All the family members would sneak down and put their presents under the tree; it was the part I loved best about Christmas Eve.  This year would be wonderful, I sensed it.  There was a smile in my heart that far exceeded the one Ben had carved on my face as I waited.

THE END