Four weeks ago yesterday we celebrated Christmas with the usual family festivities: lots of food, lots of gifts, and lots of merriment. Then Earl and I left on our annual January vacation, which consists of finding warmer weather for a couple weeks so that Earl can endure the balance of our local weather regardless of whether the groundhog sees its shadow.
We always have the discussion about when to take down our tree and undeck our halls. Do we do it before we leave or after we return home? This year, we opted to face the task when we got back. So two days ago — somewhat suntanned from our trips to California and French Polynesia — we tackled the tree, removing its finery and taking the branches apart. I gathered my collection of snowmen from various strategic points around the house and wrapped them in tissue. And last night, I delivered the last Christmas gift to my next door neighbor and we had a holiday toast of alcoholic cheer. Today, I reread all the cards we’d received in 2005 and spent some time reminiscing about those who’d sent them.
That’s not a typo. I always save the cards we get for a full year before letting them go. It’s as if I keep the friendships they represent close by too, until their 2006 greetings arrive at our door. Then, after being displayed in our family room, this past year’s batch of cards is safely stored with my ornaments until next year.
Yesterday morning, Earl reminded me that Christmas is only eleven months and three days away. This pronouncement is his final farewell to the recent season, while mine is usually a heavy sigh of relief.
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