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.
Excitement on the side 