by Corinne Wnek
Now that Thanksgiving is over and Santa has made his way to our area thanks to Macy’s, I no longer feel like a criminal when I watch the Hallmark channel’s Christmas movie marathon. And I can also listen to the sounds of the season with the volume turned up in my car because I don’t feel like I’m breaking a rule. You know the one I mean: No Christmas anything before Black Friday. After that, all hell breaks loose.
I’m in the Christmas zone now and the lights on my house prove it. Although done very tastefully by my husband, I would suggest that Clark Griswold met his match. A few white lights around a bush or two and a wreath on my door would suit me just fine, but he begs to differ. You would think we had a house full of little kids running around when, in fact, there is just one big kid.
A lot of people I know say they can’t be bothered with this kind of stuff anymore since their sons or daughters left home. After all, they say, Christmas is for the kids. Obviously, it has been a while since they watched “Miracle On 34th Street”.
We still do the same things today that we did many Decembers ago when my daughter was at home. But now we do them for different reasons. This brings comfort to us knowing that some things don’t have to change. We still get two big, live Christmas trees, one for the living room and one for the downstairs family room. Each tree has a theme to it and is based on a happy memory from the past.
Instead of the hustle and bustle of the season, I find that I actually slow down now, hoping to savor the feelings of good will and the memories each ornament brings back to me. I will try to match my husband’s spirit and dive in to Christmas and let the mania take hold of me.
Just like Clark Griswold did.
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