The Decorations Come Down

The last trick-or-treater has left our yard.  The lights have been turned off and now the front yard, which has been aglow with ghoulish delights, is cast into utter darkness.  Not the scary kind, mind you, but rather the sad variety.  It’s the kind of darkness that announces the end of the celebration and the return to reality.  Oh, there’s candy still in the bowl, not counting the abundance brought home by the eight-year old, and the sugar rush will last for a few days, to be sure.  We’ll also see the Cleo de Nile costume more often since we won’t be protecting it from being ruined before she’s actually supposed to wear it.  It’ll go into the hamper of dress-up clothes to be pulled out and pranced around in when no one is looking and she can attend Monster High in her play.  But, everything else goes.

It’s the day after and already the memories and paraphernalia of the past month are being stacked on the kitchen table.  I’ll pull out the storage tubs a little later and everything will be wiped down and carefully tucked away until the girls allow me to pull it back out next October.  The house will be put back to normal and the yard will resemble just a yard.  That is until Thanksgiving.  Then the Christmas tubs will come out and our home will be usurped by the brightness of the holiday.

But for now, it all goes back to business as usual, and to be honest, it’s a little sad.  I love how the girls have the house decorated for our everyday lives, don’t get me wrong.  Our house is clean and well kept.  However, the decorations mean something exciting is coming, something to look forward to.  They mean we’re in the middle of a celebration and that breeds enthusiasm.  There is baking to do and get-togethers to plan.  Everyone is talking about what they’re going to wear and what parties they’ll attend.  It’s festive, exciting.

And now it’s over.

The holidays are definitely a disturbance to one’s daily routine.  When we were decorating the house, I accomplished very little writing.  I wanted to hurry up and splatter the house with skeletons and witches.  It’s as if my procrastination wanted to hurry up and do everything else except what I was supposed to be doing, which was putting words to paper.  While the post-season is almost the same with busyness - I want it over with so life can return to its regularly scheduled programming - I’m slower to do it.  Why?  Because, I’m not ready for it to become just a memory.

Too fast things become the past.  Too fast the future becomes the present.  I want to savor the laughter and the silly outfits.  I want to watch Dylan count her candy over and over as the girls try to sneak a piece.  I want to hear the other kids’ tales about the Halloween parties they threw.  I want to enjoy the decorations a little longer.  I want…I want to make the memory instead of just reliving it in my mind.

As I take the decorations off the walls and pack the spiders away, it only reminds me that another holiday is gone.  Over.  I’ve gotten older and so have the children.  It’s not that I’m not excited about the future; I am.  I’m just not ready to pack away the here and now.

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