Ten minutes to write. Less time to read.

It’s time to take down all the Christmas decorations, the tree, and the lights and squirrel them away for another year. We’re not ones to leave things up long into the new year, so this morning Earl and I dragged the ornament boxes, containers for the lights, and packaging for the train set from the basement, just as we had done in November.

When I was a child, my Mother kept the Christmas decorations in a big brown ugly box laden with years of tape to keep it shut from holiday to holiday. I thought that box was magical, even though the contents were far less expensive and far more plain than the things that grace our tree today. But it really wasn’t about the ornaments; it was about believing. Believing that we would have a wonderful time together.

We didn’t always, since Christmas is also often a time of stress and unduly high expectations. But we tried.

This year, as I remove the evidence of our recent holiday, I am struck with how wonderful the entire season has been. And, given the number of personalities that were involved, believing that we would have a grand time together didn’t necessarily guarantee it. Yet, not one cross word was spoken, at least within range of my hearing.

With my sons coming to be with us, Earl’s family and mine joined together for Christmas Day with much food and laughter and a gift or two for everyone. It was the first time ever we’d all been together, in one place at the same time. So as I pack my own version of Mother’s “big brown ugly box,” I smile. I’m no longer a child, but this year made a true believer out of me.