Growing up on Long Island, my sister and I loved our trips to the Milleridge Inn, a colonial restaurant surrounded by charming gift shops.
The Glass Cottage was my favorite. That’s where we first spotted the angel orchestra.
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Each apple-cheeked angel was hand-carved in Germany and held a different instrument, their ivory dresses flanked by polka dot wings.
“Mom, Dad, can we have one? Please?” I chose a brunette French horn player, and my sister selected a blonde clarinetist, to match our hair colors and the instruments we played.
Over the years our collection grew. Visits to the Milleridge Inn brought flutists, drummers and a conductor.
When my sister and I moved to California, our angel ensemble followed—and even survived an earthquake! But we couldn’t find any more orchestra members out West.
Just when we thought our collection was complete, a visit to a shop in Solvang, a Danish village north of Los Angeles, gave us a violinist, cellist and several horn players (you can never have too many).
A few years later, after admiring hundreds of Christmas figures in a festive Vancouver store, we spied several angels quietly playing in the corner. We felt like young girls in Long Island all over again.
I often wonder where we will find our next angelic musician. For now, I can almost hear our heavenly ensemble play, their songs bringing back a symphony of sweet memories.
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