Five days until Christmas and I just started putting up my decorations last night! The tree will go up tonight but will come down by the end of next week. I don’t know if I will ever do this again. I don’t really want to do it this year. My heart, I fear is just not in it.
Mama had her stroke on Christmas Eve in 1973 and died January 2, 1974. I have never felt the same about Christmas. We were so happy that week and it all melted like a late winter snow. When I had children, some of the joy of the season came back. We baked cookies, played games, sang carols, and decorated the tree, all together.
The house is silent tonight. I looked at the stockings and remembered there are no children in the house now who will race to find the treats that they would usually be filled with. No one will come dashing down the hall to bounce on the sofa and beg to hand out the gifts. No squeals of “Me first, me first!” No shouts of “Oh Boy! That’s just what I wanted!” No grins!
Tonight, there are no twinkling lights, no smell of cookies baked, no whispers and giggles, no rustling of presents because some one is sneaking a peek. No carols drifting through the house, no laughter, no anticipation, and no sense of wonder. There is only silence and off in the distance, echoes.
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