This is holiday

This sparkle-y little bit of Christmas tree may have belonged to my grandmother or maybe even my great grandmother.  My mom gave it to me a long time ago.  I don't think it has any monetary value, but it is hugely sentimental to me.  When I look at it, I remember a holiday party that took place a very long time ago.

I think maybe someone wore this at a party I went to when I was a very small child.

It was a party at the VFW--a place my grandmother went, or at least talked about--which wasn't too far from her house. This party was the only time I went into this building.  I remember walking carefully up a wet, perhaps slightly snowy, metal stairway on the side, having on boots maybe and holding someone's hand. Inside, it was darkish, though lit with maybe a Christmas tree and lights, a grown-up party.  Everyone was very dressed up--including me, and people remarked on that.  The perfumed ladies had red lipstick mouths and everyone was talking, laughing. Someone made a joke about a Christmas tie. Maybe an uncle?  There was a punch bowl, the now old-fashioned kind with a ladle and glass teacups, and maybe snacks like Spanish peanuts, the ones that are a little oily and the red skins slide off and litter the serving dish.  We didn't stay too long.  It was a grown-up party after all.  The impression I have of the whole affair comes to me through a filter the colors of the rhinestones in this Christmas tree brooch.  That's why I think I saw it there.

Which, of course, may be totally false.

This experience, so slight, so small, was nonetheless, one of those definitive moments we absorb when we are very, very small.  This is holiday.  This is a party.