It's December 28, but we're still in the middle of Christmas here. When we were overseas, off and on for about twenty years, it was very common for Christmas cards and gifts to arrive in January and occasionally even in February. Christmas really was a season, and since the tree was artificial (just try to find a fresh evergreen in Djibouti!), we left it up for ten or twelve weeks. When presents arrived, DH and I arranged them under the tree and told the kids Santa had come again, which delighted them no end. When we were in Georgia, we easily stretched the holiday season to include Orthodox Christmas on January 6 and Orthodox New Year a week after that. So I never feel let down at the end of Christmas day anymore; there's so much more Christmas to look forward to!
Something very interesting happened this Christmas. DH, DS and I returned late in the day from a lovely family dinner to see the little tree in the window of our art center sparkling with light, a bright, hopeful glimmer in the long, dark, almost sinister facade of the old jail.
"Who turned on the Christmas tree in the studio?" DH asked.
"I don't know," I said, and it was true. I had been in there several times in the last few days, trying to de-clutter by consolidating all my knitting patterns and needles in one place, and the place had been dark and cold.
"Looks like your poltergeist is back," he said.
I smiled as we pulled into our parking lot and the last twinkly light disappeared from view. There is something magic about this old place, and something magic about Christmas.
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