*we interrupt this blog for an important bulletin*

one of the most concrete memories i have is playing with/sorting through/hanging the boxful of Christmas ornaments that my parents began for me when i was born. with only one or two exceptions (the green salt dough/red glitter tree we made in kindergarten, that i still think of every time i fold a piece of paper in half to pour glitter back into the bottle, and the little gray ceramic rocking horse  - both of which slowly crumbled), they are all still in my possession, and taking them out every year is like reuniting with dearly loved old friends.

naturally, though i loved them all, i did have favorites. one of my favoritest-of-favorites was a Makit&Bakit suncatcher of Pluto the dog with a huge wreath around his neck. i remember him so clearly, and i always had to find just the right spot on the tree  - in front of a light, so it would shine through. my sister, K, had a Disney suncatcher, too - hers was Mickey in a Santa suit, holding the word "NOEL".

(in case the foreshadowing hasn't sunk in yet, let me just say that my sistership with K was a sibling rivalry minefield from ages 9 to 16, and that she had a habit of appropriating and losing my belongings. ahem.)

i don't remember whether it was 7th or 8th grade, but one Christmas, my Pluto was gone. i searched through all of the family ornaments - no Pluto. he wasn't in my ornament box, either...but Mickey was.

"Here", i said to K. "Mickey was in my box by mistake. Have you seen my Pluto?"

K looked at me like i was nuts. "Mickey's not mine, he's yours. And what Pluto? There isn't a Pluto."

She absolutely refused to admit to any knowledge of Pluto's whereabouts, and did her level best to try to convince me that Pluto had never existed. My parents shrugged off my dismay with "Oh, it's probably in a different box. It'll turn up somewhere."

but he never did.

i'm not accusing my sister of outright malicious behavior. i don't even know for certain that she was behind the vanishing. intuition says YES, but i suspect that whatever happened to Pluto was accidental and she was afraid of being punished. whatever the truth may be, though...it's been 20 years.

Twenty long years of hanging Santa Mickey on the tree with sadness in my heart. twenty years of his cheery little face mocking my pain.

until late last week, when it occurred to me to check ebay, haven of all lost things.

and today, a little package arrived in the mail.


***ripping noises***

 

Welcome home, Pluto. Welcome home.