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The Day after Boxing Day

December 27, 2011

The snow is drifting down like sand poured from the sky.  People have come and gone and the house is a giant Christmas box torn open, waiting for the fire. I like it. I think I will leave it as a temporary installation. This is what Christmas looks like at my house. The cups are on the table. The crumbs are on the floor. The slippers are here and there. The wrapping paper is crumpled up (we used to re-use it, then we made a show of folding it up and pretending we would re-use it, now we just shove it in a box), the chairs are at odd angles. The place feels like Pompeii after everything went quiet.  The nuts are in their pretty bowls, ready for cracking. How are they to know the party’s over? I know it seems decadent, but I can’t bring myself to erase the whole scene. I don’t want it to be over. I don’t want to lift a finger. I want to spend the whole day walking around the ruins in my bathrobe, feasting on leftover coffeecake. I don’t want to talk to anyone but you.

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4 Comments leave one →
  1. December 27, 2011 5:42 pm

    Ditto.

  2. December 28, 2011 12:33 am

    I have a neighbor, terrific woman, Takes good care of her family and maintains a demanding, executive job. An example of how she does it: The day after Christmas, the ornaments are packed up, put away and the tree is on the curb for recycling. It’s not worth it to me.

  3. December 28, 2011 2:30 am

    that sounds a bit soldierly to me

  4. December 28, 2011 5:03 pm

    Pass the stale coffeecake!

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