Yes, I know it’s April. I know Christmas was months ago.
I know that even if it is a feebly suitable excuse that I like to keep Christmas up until my birthday (at the end of January), and even if I did make a good-faith effort to dismantle the little tabletop tree and lay out ornaments for re-boxing (sometime in February), and even if we were really, incredibly busy, with hardly a moment to hang up our coats, much less complete an un-finished holiday strip-down (we were, all through March)…
Does it help if I mention that I love Christmas decorations? That after months, it still made me cheerful last week to see a Christmas photo of an old college roommate, her husband, and their bulldog, smiling down from the wall–albeit, in their Santa hats? What if I add that Christmas is really the only holiday I decorate for? No clovers, bunnies, turkeys, or flags for this household… shouldn’t we get the most use out of our single selected holiday decor?
And Easter is just around the corner, y’know… isn’t a little fitting that the adornments of Jesus’ birth intersect with the festival of His RE-birth? Just a little?
Oh, alright. Fine… even if all of that is true (which it is), yes, I do know that more than a full two months is simply far too long to dedicate a 10-foot square of the living room carpet (even if it is in the unused corner by the sliding glass door) to a neatly arrayed selection of angels, mermaids, dangly crystal things, garlands, bells, and well past their prime tins of left-over Christmas cookies. I do, I know it!
Ditto for the festive holly/berry topiary on the dining room table. And the beautifully bowed ribbon of Christmas cards and annual family pictures. And the ornaments on the chandelier (even if the red does look pretty great against the ornate plastic “gold”).
Which is why — as you see pictured above — last night, on a grey evening in April, Christmas was finally wrapped, boxed, packaged, emptied, unstrung, unplugged, and pulled down from our little seasonally-confused apartment and nestled snug into two unassuming boxes in the spare room closet.
Farewell, Christmas. See you in 8 months!