I’ve had 6 years of packing up Christmas decorations – scanning the floor for the baubles the cat has borrowed as seasonal toys, trying not to knock over ornaments as I undrape tinsel, arguing with the fake tree to get it back in its box, trying to remeber how the house looked before the tree. Trying to work out where all the additional stuff is going to go. Little Person was having the same trouble. (Didn’t help she was ill.)
“No, Mummy, put it back to normal! I want my tree!”
48 weeks without a tree, 4 weeks with the tree, and suddenly the tree is “normal”? Although that’s an interesting philosophical point, because how many times do Christmas trees come into our lives, and we decorate them, and make them pretty and smile, and ignore all the shedding and the floorspace they use up, and the view that they block, and decide they’re new, and shiny, and fun, and good and we’re going to keep them for ever and ever and ever? How many times have we stopped ourselves moving into a Spring time, a new adventure, a new life, because we won’t give up our Christmas Tree (which is, let’s face it, just a reminder that actually, there is new life coming?). Give up on the pretty fake, Little Person, wait until you see the real thing. Shiny baubles have nothing on a spring meadow, or a budding rose bush.
So yeah, I was packing up the decorations, and for the first time in 6 years it was an opportunity to look forward with excitement rather than backward at my mistakes.
Can you see your Springtime yet?