Season of Thanks, Day Twenty-eight

My sweet little granddaughter spent the night last night. As usual, we had a great time together. But the first thing she has said the last couple times she's been over is "Where's grammie's Christmas???"  Her house and Aunt Chrys' house exploded with Christmas a couple weeks ago. Grammie's house still looked the same.

Last year I didn't decorate. I was waiting for... well, nevermind, I didn't decorate. A first for me. I'm quite ridiculous about Christmas. I decided a while back that this year I would decorate regardless of how I felt, regardless of the fact that I will be doing it alone and for just myself. Because I like doing it. And it's okay to do it alone. And just for me. So last week I went out to the shed to bring in the Christmas bins. I stood in the doorway. I looked at the bins. I thought about last year, the expectations, the disappointment, the sorrow. I thought about the year before. The massive decorations. Al's hospital bed in the dining room with a Christmas tree at the foot of his bed.

I closed and locked the shed door and went in the house.

But my little Kylie-girl wants Christmas at grammie's. So Christmas at grammie's there will be! Furniture has been rearranged! Bins and tins of ornaments and lights and garland are everywhere! 

Three trees are up and lighted. The Christmas dishes are mostly washed and put away. And tomorrow, I will begin opening the bins of ornaments. The years of collections. The dated ones for every single year of my marriage. The one dated 2013 that has dual meaning and may or may not make it onto one of the trees. The homemade ornaments: those made by my children through the years; those made by me as "home room mom" when the girls were little; those made by dear friends and loved ones; those made by me because I like crafting; those made by Al because so did he. The ornaments from our very first Christmas tree: the little wooden train; the little brass instruments; the little brass rocking chair; the little wooden airplane; the one that says "Our First Christmas, 1976"; the ones given to us by our mothers because our little tree didn't have many including the Mr. and Mrs. Clause from my mother-in-law and the pine cone Santa and snowman that were on my very first Christmas tree and every Christmas tree of my life. Lots and lots of memories.

I expect there will be some tears. I expect there will be some smiles. I expect it will hurt a little. Or a lot. I expect it will bring a little joy. Or a lot. But, contrary to what I thought last week, I am glad I am decorating. I feel a bit of excitement for the first time in a while. And it feels nice.

So tonight, I am grateful for my little Kylie's insistence that grammie needs Christmas at her house too!