Tuesday, January 8, 2008

Not exactly what I expected in taking down the Christmas tree

On Saturday in-between rain storms, it seemed time to take down the Christmas tree. We had kept it up past New Year's because of the party or so I told myself. As my fingers touched each handmade decoration, what more precious? - the red stocking picture frame of BOY, leaning up against a tree, shirt stained with mud, a big boy look on his face; the little gingerbread man ornament that GIRL had crafted out of dough, plastered with mostly purple glitter; the tiny choo choo train from last year that BOY had clumsily painted yellow; the 2 wreaths each had made out of paper plates and colored paper; and the silliest ones - large Styrofoam balls festooned with glittery pipe cleaners resembling some kind of objects from outer space. All of them touched and created by little hands. My children. Who are now 3 and 4. And will never be this little again. And I sobbed. My babies are gone. I know intellectually that they are still small and have years to grow into bigger children. Yet, will Christmas ever be this magical again? So full of wonder? No, I don't think it will. There will be richness and new added depth, but nothing can surpass this year. When two little round cheeked children in PJs with footies, put on their handmade paper reindeer antlers, went outside with us to toss magic reindeer food into the grass, and watched with rapturous, wide-open eyes as their father pointed to the north and said, "That is where Santa will be flying across the sky." And they believed.... in everything.



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13 comments:

liv said...

that tag "letting go" really got me, sister friend. i don't know why. letting go is hard.

i think i'll miss christmas.

Mrs. G. said...

You really managed to describe, to me, the real magic of Christmas.

bubandpie said...

I felt that this Halloween - that this is the peak, the one where they understand and love it but without the all-consuming greed: pure innocent joy. I guess I'll find out next year if I was wrong.

Jodi said...

my kids are getting a little older, but it's all still magical. even when they don't "believe" in santa -- they LOVE that you are santa. it's all good...

Sober Briquette said...

beautiful post.

Lisa Milton said...

I bet you got a couple more years...maybe.

Sweet post.

A Mom Two Boys said...

Oh, you make me weepy. Especially since I wrote such a nasty post about my little devils today.
Thanks for reminding me that they are worth having around, most of the time!

Mary Alice said...

oh ...you're making me weep for you. Really, there will be more magical times. You know what is wonderful about decorating with those same kids when they are teens? They lift each ornament - which they made when they were little - gently out of the box and put it on the tree and with each ornament, they reminisce. "Oh look at this one, I remember when we made these in Mrs. Smiths class, I was proud to give it to you Mom" Mine do it every year. Their faces glow as they remember and it is magical. Many more good things to come, my dear.

HRH said...

I make myself crazy thinking such thoughts...constantly. It is so hard to think about "lasts". Your post reminds me of the children's book, "Let Me Hold You Longer" by Karen Kingsbury which is just the sweetest and most mommy-tear-jerking joyful sobfest.

Jen said...

Well, we are on the same wave length, as you will see if you read the poem I posted yesterday, By the way, I think I should thank you for the inspiration. It came to me after reading your poem, so you must have put me in the poem frame of mind.

MamaGeek said...

This was a BEAUTIFUL post. I am always thinking these fleeting thoughts. Always. My son is 16 months and I can feel him slipping thru my fingers all the time (just like the ABBA song).

BEAUTIFUL post.

happygeek said...

It's soo fleeting isn't it. But so wonderful at the time!

Tootsie Farklepants said...

As of yesterday, Girl-Child has her first loose tooth. You can even see the big tooth coming in behind it just peaking through the skin. I cried.

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