This was their family tree, the one strewn with popcorn garland and a mis-mash of favorite ornaments. The formal tree was in the ladies parlor near the foot of the stairs, visible from the street through the front windows of the old mansion. That tree was decked out in shiny silver and gold. Simple and elegant.
But this tree was better. It had no theme, no rhyme or reason. The paper handprint cutouts, now impossibly small, were from the twin’s earliest years. Scattered among the branches were personalized ornaments marking their obsessions-at-the-moment: Barbie dolls, race cars, Power Rangers, Furbies, Beanie Babies, Buzz Lightyear. As the twins got older, the ornaments became more refined. Cell phones, a blinged-out megaphone, the mini football jersey with Blake’s number on it. It was like a time capsule, hanging from the limbs of her Christmas tree.
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