Boxes of Christmas

(this is a coffee filter angel created by mixed media artist, Mireya)

They say Christmas doesn’t come in a package.

That’s because they’ve never been in our attic.

In our attic is a really large amount of Christmas. Not all of it, and definitely not the most important part, but let me tell you, we get pretty close.

By Sunday we had recovered enough from the turkey haze to bring out 2 of the 523 boxes of Christmas from the attic.  One was the after-Christmas-sale unassembled  (sorry Daddy) reindeer and the box containing, among other things, the all important advent calendar.

Almost immediately the negotiations started.

“I’ll take this day, then you can have the next, then it’ll be my turn,” said Sierra, moving the giant wooden snowflake among the mittens.

Mireya, alert to being taken for a ride by her older sister, counted through and noticed she might not be the snowflake holder on Christmas Eve. “How about I take this day and you take that day…”

Full of Christmas spirit (and a realization that sisters get considerably smarter when they hit 6), Sierra suggested they BOTH move the snowflake on Christmas Eve, regardless of “turn.”

Further down in the box were the mismatched Christmas villages. Buildings right out of It’s a Wonderful Life mixed in with houses from some long abandoned train set. Little dogs were placed close to their fire hydrant and a giant snowman strolled the street, looking for iced latte. Santa was perched on top of a tiny house like one of those huge inflatable pink gorillas they use at car lots.

By the end, the top of our piano was transformed into a sort of Gulliver’s Travels meets A Christmas Carole with a little Vegas style lighting.

Only one hand painted wreath was in the box, which means the rest of the real Christmas treasures are somewhere in the other 521 boxes. The snow scene made of salt on black paper, the Santa with the cotton ball beard, and the reindeer with antlers made of handprints and a bright red pom pom nose—they are somewhere in there, waiting to make time turn on its head and bring eleven years of Christmases back to life.

Yes, a good bit of our Christmas is in those boxes. And I look forward to hauling out every last bit.