As was our tradition, Court and I sat beneath the tree on Christmas Eve in 2018 after spending time with family to open our gifts to each other. Moving to South Texas had allowed us to create our own new traditions together.
There were days filled with anticipation as my sister and I helped them get everything ready for Christmas. There were ornaments to be carefully placed on the tree, tinsel and garland to be wrapped around the bannisters, presents to be wrapped (and secrets to be kept!), cookies to be baked, and eventually, Christmas movies to be watched.
Some days, we would bundle up in fleece pajamas with hot chocolate and Santa Claus cookies and watch movies together on repeat. Even now, I can taste those gingery, melty cookies with a few too many marshmallows in my hot chocolate. The one movie we seemed to watch the most was The Polar Express, my grandma’s favorite one of all. We often managed to watch it several times throughout the season.
Those memories had made Christmas of 2018 a little extra difficult. It had been almost three months since my grandma passed away, and while my Christmas memories with her were dear to me, they renewed that same sense of sadness.
I remember wrapping presents for my grandparents that year, carefully and tightly wrapping the paper around the boxes for a perfect fit. I had wrapped three, and started looking for the fourth one. The realization that there would only be three this year was like a slap in the face. I couldn’t hold back the wave of sadness, or the tears that started streaming down my face. It felt silly, but the idea of not wrapping a gift for my grandma had brought back all the pain of her passing.
So here we were, on Christmas Eve of 2018, opening some of our gifts from my family in Kansas. After rooting around the boxes under the tree, I picked up a small one, glanced at the tag, and froze.
To: Jessica From: Grandma and Grandpa
Taped to the box was a note. I showed Court, and we both paused to read it. After my grandpa had moved out of the house to a retirement facility, my parents had come across two gifts wrapped and addressed to me and my sister. Somehow, they had been forgotten or saved for this year.
I carefully opened the box, to find a gleaming silver bell. An ornament for our tree, exactly like the bell in The Polar Express. They had given us one last Christmas gift.
I chose a space on the front of the tree, moving some random red balls out of the way so it could be front and center. The lights on the tree reflected on its smooth silver surface, as if its presence lit up our Christmas tree more than ever.

The past three Christmases, as Court and I have decorated the tree, he has handed me the box with a knowing grin. I have carefully opened it, lightly rung the bell with a smile, and placed it lovingly on the tree. Before putting the box away, I’ve tucked away the little note and tag to be read again the next year.
If you’re reading this, I know that Christmas has looked very different these past two years. It looks different for us again, too. But know that no matter how far apart you are from your friends or your family, they’re always with you. This season is about finding hope, love, and peace despite our circumstances, and I wish them all for you this Christmas.
Epilogue
I originally wrote this post back in 2020, when I first started my “Fiercely Imperfect” blog. For some reason, I never decided to share it. When I transitioned to this new site, I couldn’t quite bring myself to delete the draft, and I only remembered it after opening the box for this particular ornament this past weekend.
Since writing this post, I’ve also lost my Grandpa that gifted thisornament, and placing it on the tree this year felt a little more bittersweet than ever. I’m so thankful to have this memory of them, and to see it light up our home during their favorite holiday.
If the past couple of years have taught us anything, it’s the importance of love and letting people know how much you care. Life is short, so love a lot and leave a little kindness wherever you go.