All Good Things
I don’t know how to take Christmas down in a non-maniacal way.
On January 2nd, I wake up with an EVERYTHING-MUST-GO mentality, a fire sale on holiday cheer.
Just one calendar day ago, these decorations looked merry and right, but now they are imposters, garish reminders that a cozy stretch of irretrievable time has ended. More, something that should’ve been obvious about the tree all along becomes clear: it’s been standing there dead since we put it up in early December. Like so many of us, it’s just been trying to hang on through the holidays.
I start taking ornaments off the tree in handfuls. Dry needles cling to many, and while I understand the desperation, I shake them off and pack the decorations into bins like someone’s timing me. I untwirl the garland from the banister, stack the 22 years of framed Santa pictures, pile the stockings next to the Christmas pyramids. I take the battery-filled candles out of all the windows, undoing the welcome they were supposed to signal. I stand the nutcrackers together on the dining room table, and they loiter as if they’re weary executives leaving a shell-cracking convention, waiting for a shuttle to the airport.
The older kids haven’t woken up yet, but I text them with a whole batch of exciting to-dos they can get to-done once they do: cut down the garlands on the gate outside. Bring the packed…
