It’s the day after Thanksgiving. The dishes done, the leftovers put away, and the table is back to normal. The last week I busied myself with cooking recipes that only get made once a year and writing in NaNoWriMo. I surprised myself by keeping to a writing schedule—something I haven’t done in a long while. The feelings of accomplishment were peaceful. I wasn’t anxious; I wasn’t nervous. I was just…

As I looked around my house, I told my husband I needed the Christmas decorations from the garage. He’s helpful like that. He placed them all in the family room in no particular order. Still, in my pajamas, I started opening up the plastic bins to see what was inside.

Call me crazy, but I get excited looking at all the greens, reds, golds, and whites stacked in each bin. As I took each decoration out, I saw in my mind’s eye the perfect home for it and where it would live for the next five weeks.

There are Santas, snowmen, candles, garland, lights, elves, and ornaments. I have so much stuff. But there was a time when I didn’t have any of this. When my kids were living at home and growing up, I decorated to the nines. I had a Christmas ball for each year of their lives, gifted to me by my mother. I saved all the school projects they made in art class.

One year, we had moved, and I couldn’t remember where I had placed my Christmas boxes. They all were missing. Of course, the garage was so jammed packed with not only my stuff but my roommates’. When we purchased the live tree, we decided we needed new lights and red velvet ribbon.

Each night, after dinner, we’d sit at the kitchen table, and my roommates and I would make bows to tie on the tree. That year, our tree bore white lights and red velvet bows. I still have all those bows. I kept them because it reminds me of a day when life was hectic yet simple. The magic of Christmas was upon us as we sat making bows, talking and laughing over a two-buck Chuck bottle of wine.

The day we moved out of that house was the day I found my Christmas decorations. Elated, I decided to put them in special bins so I wouldn’t misplace them again. And I incorporated the red bows each year along with my Christmas memorabilia.

Living in a new house, I didn’t have a garage. But, it had a covered back area where the landlord told me the previous tenants used it as a storage area. So, I placed my decorations under the covered area in the new bins.

The red bows had their own special bin where the top fit snugly. It turns out the covered storage area roof leaked whenever it rained. And my storage bins were not waterproof. The lid flipped over, so there was a gap in the middle.

The following Christmas, I went outside for my decorations. I noticed about an inch of water at the bottom of each bin. I couldn’t believe it. I opened the top, and everything was wet and moldy. All the kids’ Christmas ornaments with the dates on them, all the handmade ornaments they had made in school, were soggy and ruined. I cried. My heart ached over this loss. The years, the memories; I’d never be able to replace these precious mementos.

The red velvet bows were the only thing salvageable. That year, like so many years ago, my Christmas tree was once again white lights and red velvet bows. As I tied each bow onto the end of a branch, I reminisced about the roommates turned friends who helped me make them. I once again felt the magic of Christmas.

I’m not sure what changed after that Christmas when I discovered my mementos destroyed. Still, I didn’t decorate for several years afterward. I don’t know if it was depression, laziness, my limited finances, or maybe because I was alone and didn’t have anyone to share it with; I never bought another tree or put up lights, and I stopped feeling the magic of Christmas.

That is until I met my husband. On our first Christmas together, he never said a word as boxes and boxes of decorations showed up on our doorstep. He never grumbled as he put up the outside lights and candy canes in the freezing cold. Not a peep when I put a Christmas tree in every window. Was I making up for a lost time?

After all, was said and done, he’d build a fire in the firebox. I’d make hot chocolate. We sat in our family room watching Hallmark Christmas movies laughing at the plots and how they were all alike. Christmas Vacation, Home Alone, The Holiday, White Christmas, and Miracle on 34th Street were watched as if we had never seen them before, together.

This year we are in Savannah for our third Christmas. All my decorations have a home. I only decorate one tree now, but we have lights everywhere, inside and out. As I sit in the dark with only the Christmas lights on, the magic of Christmas is once again upon me. I can feel it in my heart as I admire my handiwork.

And those red velvet bows; well, they are still with me snuggled into their special plastic case, ready for me to find them a new home either on the mantel or the staircase. And though I am not a religious person, I thank God each and every day for the birth of His son, for I wonder if it is He who has put the magic of Christmas back in my heart.

Featured Image by LC Ahl