We are clinging to Christmas for as long as it will let us…or at least until next weekend, which is the firm deadline I gave the youngest member of our household when he insisted we leave all our decorations – including the tree – up “forever.”
I get a little twitchy post-New Year’s Eve although, traditionally, I wait until January 6, the Feast of the Epiphany, to take my Christmas tree down.
The cheerful red and green seems a little garish once the season ends and our real tree begins to drop its needles. Afflicted, as I am, with a defective aversion to clutter, I am anxious to clear everything away, though not always actually organized enough to remember where I’ve stored things in my haste.
I’m not even a KonMari-wannabe, just someone who likes a little space to breathe in her rooms.
So, it’s been a challenge to walk past the garland still clinging somewhat desperately to my banisters and the giant stockings hanging limply from my mantle. I’m ready to move on.
At least I thought I was.
Then, I sat on the couch in front of my tree early Sunday morning, sipping my mug of tea and enjoying both the view and the pre-dawn stillness in the room.
Peace on earth, I thought.
Couldn’t we all use a little more of that? Maybe even forever.