Christmas is gone. I felt it when I walked through our still-fully-decorated flat in the middle of January. Everything was in its place, even the place settings from our Christmas table and the table cloth, but Christmas – in the “feeling” sense – was gone.
I started taking down garlands of golden balls yesterday, followed by the yellow manger-like straw and the IKEA snowflake lights came out of the jar. My favourite baubles will stay hanging on our tree branch. I can’t let go of them for now.
Mothers are recorders – first Christmas, first high chair, first crib, first smile (well, Husband got that one), first laugh, first tooth, first steps, first crawl, first roll and first foods. Each one is exciting. You feel proud of this tiny person’s ability to reach another moment, another milestone. Each one is bittersweet because it is another step of baby’s life away from you.
You want that as well. No one desires for their child to remain in the same place physically, emotionally and spiritually their whole life. We want them to grow in every way. But there is a silent sadness in my heart with each step Small One takes in the direction of independence. I hold on to these moments as I put our first Christmas together into boxes hoping that memory will not fail me as the years pass and praying for a strong heart to believe that the best is still to come.