It's 3 days after Christmas... and my house doesn't have that "Santa's Workshop Just Puked All Over the Place" look anymore (as much. kinda)
There's still toys- everywhere. But they are slowly being beaten back into the youngling's room. (a riding Hummer and a brand new 'big boy' bike are currently parked in the front entry way... yeah, Santa didn't think the storing needs quite through on those.)
There's food as far as the eye can see. In the fridge. On the table next to me. Every counter space has some mind of food item- left over from The Big Fat Christmas Eve Celebration we have in my family every single year.
And Jacob is slowly discovering the fun to be had with his Christmas toy haul.
I love Christmas.
I love the way the whole world looks different. I love the way everything gets all gussied up and pretty. I love the smells & the sounds. And I adore the lights and the decorations.
I love that it's the one (absolute) guaranteed night of the year when my family is together under one roof. It's loud and messy and fun. And it flashes by in such a blur. This past Christmas Eve night, I spent much of the evening just trying to take it all in. To slow down and be fully in the moment.
I confess, I wasn't too successful. Without my permission, the night fled by at warp speed and I was sitting on the couch in the suddenly silent house.... amazed that another year had gone by. And, oh so thankful that it had brought my beloved family together again. And I bask in that connection. It's an amazingly beautiful notion that a family knows where they are supposed to be- and, barring some emergency, they are there. Together.
And, every year- that becomes the best gift received.