.....so long santa

Yogis,

Have you ever noticed that no matter how meticulously you sweep, dust and scoop the approximately 5 million needles that fall off the Christmas tree as you delicately (well maybe not delicately….) carry it out the front door, as soon as you put the broom away and release an exhale, fifty more needles appear?

I mean really. I feel like they are playing with me. Hiding out in the molding cracks, the door jamb and at the edge of each throw rug and then leaping back onto the floor when I have my back turned.

Yes, this was the de-christmas-ing weekend in our home. An annual event that requires lifting, ladders, super glue and much patience. A day I both look forward to and dread at the same time.

The gathering up of ornaments, Santas and place mats to be put back in their boxes is really only the first step.  It’s true, I could ignore the fact that the ten year old shopping bag that holds the left over wrapping paper, gifts bags and tissue paper has a tear in it and is missing a handle, but somehow I felt compelled this year to dump it out, go through the items and start anew. Which then somehow led me to my birthday ‘wrapping supplies cabinet’ which had become so packed that everything falls out when you open the door.  Down on my knees I went. I was ruthless.

Each time I removed things from a counter, the clear space left in its place screamed to be cleaned. Spots on now bared tablecloths no longer could be ignored. Opening the door to the frig only to find empty shelves with telltale signs of what had once filled them.  And so on…..and so on……

Laundry and dishes. A few stray items placed in the corner which need to be returned. Cookies that must be eaten so that the Christmas tins can make their way to the attic.

Two full trash cans later the house looks much bigger. Cleaner. Clearer. Each year I am startled by the space. My eyes drawn, not to objects, but the emptiness between them. A fresh new perspective.

A weekend filled with saying good-bye to what has been, but then in the next breath wondering what’s next.

I think I will have a cookie,
SARAH