Dana had one of those choir bells on a shelf in the living room. It was brass with a wooden handle and a little dinged up. It was one of the few things that she cherished.
It had belonged to her father. He had used it every year when he rang the bell at the red kettles. He had done it for many years right up until he was too ill from the cancer.
She remembered going out with her mother to bring him a thermos of coffee. He always had a smile on his face and he was quick to wish everyone ‘Happy Holidays’. Those were some of her most favorite memories.
Now the bell rested silently, just like her father.
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ninetydegrees
9, Bell
on 2015-02-27 03:39 pm (UTC)It had belonged to her father. He had used it every year when he rang the bell at the red kettles. He had done it for many years right up until he was too ill from the cancer.
She remembered going out with her mother to bring him a thermos of coffee. He always had a smile on his face and he was quick to wish everyone ‘Happy Holidays’. Those were some of her most favorite memories.
Now the bell rested silently, just like her father.