Untie The Ribbons

Toward the end of November, my brother sent me a picture in an email.  He'd been walking through a German market on the streets of Chicago, and spied a cuckoo clock display.  I replied to his message by telling him the picture made me very sad.  I also jokingly asked him to please get me one after seeing the hefty price tags.  He answered, "You are the only person I know who'd actually want something that would make you sad."  I still haven't quite decided if he was implying I'm much too sentimental...or simply odd.
Even my earliest memories of my grandparents' house include their cuckoo clock.  I never outgrew the wonderment of waiting for the door to open so the cuckoo could emerge to sing its song.  Bedtime at their house always filled me with a sense of peace and contentment.  As the house grew quiet, Grandma would sit at the kitchen table to record the day's events in her diary.  Each night, she faithfully wound the cuckoo clock.  I can still close my eyes and picture her standing in her robe as she pulled on the chains.  The sheets and blankets at their house had a unique wonderful scent.  I would crawl into bed secure in the promise of happy dreams.
Our family celebrated Christmas in Houston this year.  I ended up staying home with Jason, and sending Eli with my sister's family.  After their return, my sister presented me with a wrapped box from my brother.  When I tore off the paper and lifted the lid, I was truly stunned to see a beautiful cuckoo clock of my very own.  (Ok, yes I cried)

"Each day comes bearing its own gifts.  Untie the ribbons."  ~Ruth Ann Schabacker