Like crumpled up wrapping paper that finally made it to the curb, last year’s holiday season has been packed up and stored away.
And it’s time to move on.
It’s funny, how Christmas comes and goes faster than a New York minute, isn’t it.
Actually, funny is not the right word, perhaps, ‘surprising’ may be a more accurate description.
As for me, I felt like I hardly had time to tie up the emotions of excitement, nervousness and absolute delight and keep them stored in a nice neat package somewhere in the vicinity of my heart, before the whole thing ended.
But, still, Christmas, as it does every year, brought with it poignant, happy memories that have the potential to be recycled over and over again.
Years ago, I wrote about this young family who all piled into a little red volkswagon and drove many miles to grandma’s house for Christmas.
The words I penned so seriously were about the fact that some of the name tags got mixed up on the presents, the baby’s mitts didn’t match, the oldest child’s winter coat had a broken zipper and the middle child had forgotten her favourite doll.
But, they were all together, I wrote, and, somehow, someway, they managed to bring the Christmas spirit with them into that little car.
And that was what really mattered.
That young family was mine. I smile as I remember.
So now I’m the grandma and this year, my children, their children and their spouses all came home for Christmas, to be joined by a sprinkling of aunts and uncles and cousins.
And, as often happens, history repeated itself. Once again, I was disorganized and more than slightly flustered as I struggled to be the star on the tree and the spirit of Christmas all rolled into one.
And, once again, I failed.
But, once again, it didn’t matter because we were all together and that fact alone trumped any imperfection, perceived or real.
And, even though the world outside was no less fraught with worry and danger and doom and gloom hung heavy in some political arenas, Christmas, complete with its Santa sack filled with a great abundance of good things, reigned supreme at my house.
But, in no more than a few hours they all packed up and went home, and it seemed like it had all happened yesterday, because it was almost tomorrow.
And then there was New Year’s Eve.
I’m not sure what it is about the ‘50s and ‘60s rock ‘n roll music that makes people my age act like they are teenagers and dance until the wee hours of the morning.
I guess it doesn’t matter.
We danced the night away and it seemed the rock ‘n roll music just got into our very bones.
But then it was the morning after the night before. And the music died. And it seemed that all that was left of those tunes that made us all feel like crazy teenagers was some very achy bones.
But, once again a few brief hours on the time clock of December presented is with some wonderful memory makers.
And, so has we proceed into a new year, it will be interesting to see what lies in store for all of us.
I’m sure history will repeat itself in some way, shape or form.
But, there will, no doubt, be new history in the making as well.
As for myself, I know better than to make any new year’s resolutions.
Been there. Done that! Didn’t work!
I do hope, however, that perhaps, somewhere, somehow, some day, the opportunity will present itself to me so I can make a tiny difference somewhere, somehow, some day to someone.
I have no idea how that could happen, but it is comforting, somehow, to think that we all have moments, shining, golden moments where we have a chance to do something good, something positive and something right to make the world a better place.
And so as we move ahead into a new year, I think it is good to be hopeful.
And, remember we each have the potential to make a difference somewhere, somehow, someday for someone.