Many Christmases ago, many more than I first realized, my parents took us to their friends' house for a Sunday School Christmas party.  I remember it pretty well - the highlight of the night was when we kids got to open presents.  I was extremely excited, until I opened the gift and saw I had received an ornament.  I was ten.  Ornaments didn't really wow me, I suppose.  First of all, you only see it once a year, and at the age of ten I didn't have my own tree.  So I handed the ornament over to Mom and said "Thank you" to our host who said "I chose this special ornament for you."

I found it sort of hard to believe.  There wasn't anything terribly special about the ornament.  It was a white carousel horse.  It was fuzzy.  It had a red saddle with gold trim.  I tried to imagine what was special about it, but I just couldn't see it.  At all.  For one thing, I wasn't the sort of kid who liked horses.  Or carousels for that matter.  Each year the tree went up and I looked at it remembering "there's something special about that horse", but never figuring out what that was.

In 1999 Chris and I had been married for about two weeks when Christmas rolled around.  Mom packed up all of my Christmas ornaments and sent us off with them.  The carousel horse came with.  Each year it hangs on the tree with all of the other ornaments. 

This year I hung it on the tree.  Will helped me put it up.  Every day I sort of see him over there by the tree, looking at the carousel horse, touching it's fuzzy white mane and twirling it around by the stick.

"Mom," he said tonight, "this one is my favorite." 

"The carousel horse?"  I was shocked. 

"Yes.  I like it.  It's special."  He said.  I blinked hard several times.

"Why?"

"It's special."  He said and shrugged, like if I couldn't see why it was special than it was my problem, and he didn't need to justify the carousel horse's specialness to me if I couldn't get it on my own.  "Whose horse is this?"  He asked.

"Look at the bottom."  I said.  My mother wrote our names and dates on every ornament we kids ever received.  I think it was because she wanted to make sure those ornaments left her house when we all did.  Never before in the history of motherhood has a woman been so determined to get all kids grown up, successful, and out of the house with all of their stuff.  Not that she doesn't love us, she just doesn't like us storing our things in her basement. 

"It says 'Jolene 87'."

"That means it's mine and I got it in 1987."  I said.

"When was that?"  He said.

"Twenty years ago" I said, not believing it myself.  "I was ten." 

He touched it more carefully now, like it was not only special, but worth something.

"So it's an artifact."  He breathed the words in awe.  I have to admit, I don't think anything in the 80s is really ancient, but apparently he does.  He kept looking at it and admiring the ornamental archaeology on my Christmas tree.  I watched him while working at my laptop so he didn't notice me watching him.  He doesn't like to be "studied" by his mother these days, but I couldn't help it.  I felt overwhelming joy that after twenty years the ornament, for me, had finally reached its "specialness".

"Tell you what," I said to him "I'll let you have it."

"The carousel horse?"  He smiled.  "You'll give it to me?"

"It's yours.  And when you leave home you can take it with you.  It's yours now."

"I can take it to college?"

"Sure.  You can take it to college...  Though I doubt the eighteen year old you is going to want some silly old carousel horse."  I tried to imagine him packing for college and me bringing in his carousel horse and the look the 18 year old Will is going to give me for suggesting he take that off to college.  I tried to imagine my future daughter-in-law's horror when she saw the carousel horse and the pain of putting it on her perfectly decorated tree. 

"I am too going to want to take it when I'm eighteen."  He proudly stated.  "It was yours when you were a little girl and now you've given it to me, your little boy.  It's special."

"Ok."  I said.

Gigi came bounding down the stairs.  Will moved the carousel horse up a few branches, out of reach of the two year old ornament toucher.

"This one is mine."  He told her.  "This is my carousel horse.  Mommy is giving it to me.  And when I leave for college it comes with me.  I'm going to take it to the very first Show and Tell I have in college."  He said.

I don't have the heart to tell him that they don't have Show and Tell in college.  I also don't have the heart to tell him that there's no way an eighteen year old boy is going to give a second thought to what will then be a nearly 40 year old carousel horse with "Jolene 87" written on the bottom of it. 

But this year, and maybe for a few more Christmases, it will be the most special ornament on the tree for him.  And that makes it  forever the most special ornament for me.  Finally.