“Egypt!” said Georgia as she pulled the wooden pyramid from a plastic storage box and hung it on the Christmas tree. “What a honeymoon…”

For thirty-eight years we’d been collecting ornaments, and tree trimming provided a cheery walk down Memory Lane. “We’ll always have Paris,” I said, handing her a miniature Eiffel Tower.

I sipped eggnog, watching as she hung the copper keepsake near a puka shell inscribed with “Mele Kalikimaka,” a memento of the Hawaii vacation just before our first daughter was born. Before two became three, and three became six. The nest was empty now, except for the memories, a hundred of which decorated a tree that read like a roadmap of our married life.

I reached into the nearly-empty storage box and found a tarnished little jingle bell that still rang when I shook it.

“Jingles!” Georgia said with a wistful smile.

“She was a great cat,” I said, placing the silver ball on the Christmas tree. “So playful.”

An ornament fell from the bottom branch and rolled to a stop at my feet.

“She still is,” said Georgia.

“I believe you’re right,” I agreed as Bing Crosby crooned Winter Wonderland and memories mixed with happy tears.

Author’s Note: This story was written for a contest with an interesting angle that seemed fun. The 200-word maximum flash fiction competition required me to write a holiday story using some form of all three key words: believe, jingle, and cheer. As I looked at my own Christmas tree, an idea for this sweet moment emerged.