My mom was an artist. As an artist, she found many outlets for her creativity. One outlet was painting ceramics. Her dad and stepmother owned a ceramic shop and she helped out. Along the way, her family were benefactors of ceramic projects big and small. I remember her painting four angel ornaments for the tree. One boy and three girls, or in other words, one for my brother and one for my sisters and me.
For years the angels hung on her Christmas tree every year. Her little angels painted with love by our guardian angel.
Every year for thirty some years her angels hung on momma’s tree.
But all things come to an end. This Christmas, the angels were divided and each hung on different trees in two states and three towns. Mom’s angels are separated by distance but still connected by memory and love.
