When I was a child, the day after Christmas was always the saddest day of the year. The hype was over – cousins went home; no more kitchen time with MawMaw; the tree looked forlorn with no gifts beneath it.
If Mama tried to take the tree down before Twelfth Night, I would cry and beg her to leave it up,
Just until Kings Day, please, Mama.
She understood the sadness in the little girl’s heart, thus she would leave the moribund tree up for a few days more.
Even now, it’s still hard for me to part with Christmas.
But I remind myself that there are twelve days of Christmas – I don’t have to despair that the first day has passed.
There are twelve full days to relish the season.
Twelve days in which the past relinquishes its hold on me,
and I am able to sit by the fire and crochet what is yet to come…..
…..while sharing a moment with a very special Cupcake.