Not every Christmas comes wrapped in a white blanket, so I don't know why it doesn't seem very Christmassy today even without the cold decorations. We've got the fire (real flames, fake wood), brightly lit tree, stockings hanging with care (except now they are on the floor, but still fat with candy). Wrapping paper is strewn about; we're smiling over the gifts. But I'd really love to go walking in my new coat, and crunch snow with my boots.
Yes, it's true, our families have come and gone. It does feel a little empty around here, even in a room full of boxes and bows. It's kind of odd, growing up, getting married, extending the family. Christmas isn't contained any more, but it overflows. That's joyful, but new.
No, it isn't the lack of snow, or the many "Christmases" with multiple family members; it's the grown-up bit. I didn't think about Santa even once last night, as my head hit the pillow. And this morning, I didn't get out of bed until 8:00! I loved opening presents and watching my husband open his. I loved saying Merry Christmas! and calling and messaging my parents, sister, and niece. But I miss the sugar plums, the reindeer, the chimney. I miss "'Twas the Night Before Christmas," and Mom reading "A Few Bars in the Key of G." I miss sledding with my sister, even when she would leave me behind at the top of the hill. I miss sitting on Santa's lap, even though it was scary because I was terribly shy. I miss school programs with costumes and songs.
Hang on; this wasn't supposed to be a melancholy Christmas. And it isn't, really. Just a meditative one. The spirit of Christmas, the magic, still swirls in my head. Soon, my husband will take out his guitar and we'll sing carols. And I have a nice stack of Christmas stories to read. And we'll take a walk, I'm sure; and I'll wear my new coat. And I'll imagine the snow under my feet.