Far Too Soon

As I sit kicked back in my recliner, cleverly avoiding working on both a freelance assignment AND an unfinished novel, I take in the room around me. It's disheveled to say the least, bits of tinsel hang on the mantel, colorful glitter clings to the carpet, making the living room look almost like a stripper interrupted mid-strip. The Christmas tree is down at least, leaving the rest of the penguins, reindeer, Santas, and bits of Nativity scenes looking forlorn and lonely.

In case you missed the memo, Christmas is over, coming and going as usual in a whirlwind of finger foods, apple cider, wrapping paper, and twinkling lights...leaving behind destruction, new toys to play with, and just a hint of sadness that such a joyful season is gone once again.

This year I had fully intended to enjoy the time after the holiday. I would leave up my decorations until the new year and maybe even past. I would continue to partake in the guilty pleasure of Christmas carols as I tidied the house, cooked more holiday goodies, and stretched out the feeling of joy and magic for just a few more precious days. Before leaving work, my best bud and I had discussed how we would leave our offices decorated so that we could enjoy the whimsy once again upon our return. I even declared it bad luck to take the decorations down before the Day had even arrived.

I'm always full of good intentions.

But then the day after Christmas arrived. I logged onto Facebook to see what happiness had been spread to my friends, and I saw status updates declaring that houses had been disrobed, that trees had been discarded, that any and all traces of the Christmas train had left the station. Depression sank in. Friends and family were already shedding themselves and their houses of the Christmas season. How was I supposed to keep that magical feeling of the holidays alive when I, too, was beginning to get the bug to strip down the decorations and purge the house of Christmas?

And so, the tree came down. It took all of twenty minutes. I worked like a madwoman, carefully wrapping the precious ornaments, stuffing them unceremoniously into storage boxes, where they wouldn't see the light of day until the season arrived again, far too soon as always.

But then I stopped. Far too soon?

If the season arrives far too soon and leaves far too soon, then when do we have time to enjoy the in between? Time speeds past us, ushering in and out seasons and holidays, gobbling up moments and memories and leaving little behind but bits of tinsel and glitter, which clings sadly to a mantle, refusing to be swept away in the whirlwind of us all. We enable time to move faster. We rush the days. We rush the seasons. We wish our lives away. We barely remember to take a deep breath and enjoy each moment.

No more.

My living room sits in a state of in between. Not quite post-holiday blues but not quite full-blown spirit of Christmas. From the hearth, a resin Santa Claus smiles at me, cozied up close to our heater, frozen in time and in merriment. I think I'll leave him out just a little longer. Together with the remaining reindeer and penguins, Christmas cookies and tinsel, we'll ring in the new year and try to let those moments sink in before they pass us by once again, speeding past as the universe spins to some unknown fate and some unknown destination that we will arrive at far too soon.

Are your decorations down? How long do you usually leave them up after the holidays? 

Hand Me Down

With our bellies full and our sights already set on the joyful tasks of the coming season, my husband and I began pulling out our Christmas decorations over Thanksgiving weekend.  To call them our Christmas decorations may be a bit of a misnomer, however.  It’s true that the decorations are stored at our house now, and it’s true that, for the moment, they do belong to us, but the real truth is that these Christmas decorations, a lot like many of our possessions, are what you might call hand-me-downs.

You see many of the decorations that deck the halls of the Ross house are classic, maybe even a little vintage, passed down to us from our parents and grandparents and more precious than any brand new decorations could ever be. Each ornament has a story and memory attached to it, and when we start dragging all of those decorations out, the memories come with them. That’s what I love about hand-me-downs. Everything has a history, a story to tell, so that possessions take on a life of their own and become much more than simple “things.”

Since I was a little girl, I have lived in a world of hand-me-downs. Having a big sister meant that many of my toys had been played with before, carried on adventures through my sister’s imagination and then through mine as well. It wasn’t as if I didn’t have my own toys mind you, because I did. I had generous and loving parents who made sure I had everything I could ask for, but I also had parents who made me appreciate the little things in life, the simple moments, the beauty of imagination, and the joy and history of hand-me-downs.

To this day, I prefer old things over new. I drag my husband antiquing all of the time. We search for vintage Pyrex, handmade furniture, and all sorts of other treasures just waiting to reveal themselves. I love the thrill of finding something unique and old on a trip antiquing. I always try to imagine where that item came from, what stories it has to tell, what kind of people owned it before me.  I try to appreciate the history of something, while also giving it a chance to become a part of new stories and adventures.

Via

Even our cats are hand-me-downs. Second-hand felines rescued from the Humane Society and brought to live among our rag-tag collection of antiques and uniques. They were all someone else’s discarded trash until they became a precious part of our family.

I’m sure that each of our cats have exciting stories to tell about the lives they led before they came to live with us. Just as I’m sure that the ornaments that Jeremy’s Granny made could tell all about the love she had in her heart as her hands crafted each one. Or the white oak basket that Papa made would tell of his love for Coca-Cola and biscuits and syrup and a favorite grandson that would become my Daddy. I would love to hear the tales that an abandoned biscuit cutter I bought for a dollar in a thrift store would tell of delicious meals and savory conversations over supper.

One day I’ll try to write down some of those stories, those moments of history caught forever in family Christmas decorations and vintage mixing bowls, just waiting to be handed down again so that the stories within them may continue forever. 

Is your life and home filled with hand-me-downs? Or do you prefer new over old?