I have a tendency to attach a tremendous amount of meaning to the most trivial of things. I remember where I got them, who I was with, how I felt. This item, a lighter, a tshirt, a coffee cup, it becomes a touchstone to that moment in time.
It is only very occasionally that I have had something for a long time and I don’t have any recollection of where it came from.
I know I have had this disco ball ornament for a long time. I know I bought it for myself. I can vaguely recall taking it out of the box. I am not much of an impulse buyer of things like ornaments. Again, always so sentimental, my ornament collection is largely made up of memories.
I know it hung on my Christmas Tree after Em and I moved to Chapel Hill and then hung from a teeny hook in my living room for the remainder of the time we lived in that apartment. I remember it hanging on my first big Christmas Tree in our house at the beach. And I am fairly sure it graced the tree in my dinky little duplex the first year I lived in Kill Devil Hills.
Going back in time to Williamsburg and the Christmas Trees I had in college, I don’t think I had it then. Those years were full of disco naps and a tree decorated in Happy Meal toys. But I don’t think I had a disco ball.
Strangely, I can’t be sure.
Merry Christmas to you, mysterious Disco Ball. And thanks very much to the Kelly of Christmas Past that had the good sense to snag you off the shelf.