Except for the mantle, decorations were moved to the basement and most everything was back to its usual place. So I thought. Yesterday morning, when I finally went through the accumulation of books and papers on the coffee table, I found a wooden tree puzzle beneath the Times. Later in the day, I found the Christmas pillow my daughter made in elementary school, and in the library, I found a small errant elf, wooden and without arms hiding behind the Christmas music on the piano. No matter how I try, some thing or things always escape my post-Christmas sweep.
Maybe that's a good thing. Why shouldn't good-will and cheer last more than a few weeks? Why should reminders of Christmases past, of people loved and children grown, lie stuffed in a blue plastic crate in the basement?
A few years ago, I decided to keep up a Santa I had cross-stitched years ago. Tender feelings of wonder, hope and love, I thought, should remain in our hearts year round.
I did bring the tree puzzle, child-stitched pillow and errant elf to the basement, but like the pine needles I won't find until June and the cross-stitched Santa who stays up year round, I am reminded that Christmas isn't something to be stuffed away. Wonder hope and love are gifts in every season!
May the unwrapped days of 2020 be kind to us all!