Tradition tells me to leave the trappings of Christmas up till Three Kings’ Day on January 6, but the calendar and time available dictate that Christmas comes down on the first Saturday after New Year’s Day.
Taking it down is a bittersweet experience. The gifts are long unwrapped and put away. The bubbling excitement in the eyes of the children has tempered into experience. The family gatherings are finished. The chocolates are eaten. The feasting has ended. Even the lights are looking a little passé despite the still dark of midwinter.
Each year I carefully dismantle what a month ago was unpacked with delight. Each piece is examined and repacked. The tree ornaments are once more tucked away as deep memories flash by my mind at each touch. The red and green and gold are packed into boxes, the lights stowed, the cookie tins tucked away. The last to go are the crèche, each one carved of wood in some distant part of the world, each one reminding me of the timeless story of Christmas.
Choosing a Galway CD as background music brings the same sort of satisfaction of a light desert after a rich and overwhelming meal. Much as I enjoy the music of Christmas, I am sated with brass and bells. A simple flute suffices.
Taking down Christmas is as much a ritual as putting it up. The snow glitters outside and the chimneys across the way steam in the late day of early January. Sun sets on Christmas but dawns on opportunities.
Time to look forward. Time to begin new projects. Armed with the life brought by Christmas, the new year begins.
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