There’s no other time of the year when we decorate our homes more than Christmas. There are wreaths, garlands, trees, pillows, and ornaments. Taking them all down at the end of the festive season can be both a bother and a heartbreak. It’s the end of what we always wish for, and the beginning of a fresh start to a new year. Personally, New Year’s Eve and Day are my least favorite days of the year. It’s about as exciting to me as watching the odometer roll over to all zeros.
Our Christmas tree is largely decorated with ornaments I made when my son was five. I made dozens of Christmas ornaments that year, partly out of an artistic desire, and partly because I needed the money. I tried to sell some of my goodies at a local craft show, but didn’t have much luck. People came past my table, admired my offerings, picked them up to ooh and aah and show their friends, but would soon put them back on the table. In addition to my handcrafted ornaments, I had also prepared bags of beans, with a recipe for bean soup attached, printed on a green cardboard Christmas tree cut-out. Those, to my surprise, sold out within minutes. My next-door neighbor, however, had a great appreciation for beautiful treasures, and I sold many of my cross-stitch creations to her. Those that were left over I now get to enjoy myself.
I had an enormous amount of energy when my son was younger. As an actress, my schedule was flexible. On days when I didn’t have auditions or work (there were far too many of those days, which is why I’m no longer treading the boards!), Reilly and I would spend our days taking with trips to the library, dragging back wagonloads of books, as many as the librarian would allow, then reading and playing and dog-walking and baking. And when my son would go to bed, I’d be sewing and stitching and painting and sculpting. Today, I couldn’t even tell you where the nearest library is. And I don’t do much craftwork anymore. But I always enjoy reminiscing about that year of incredible energy, no matter how fleeting it was, and I continue to enjoy the lasting results of my efforts.
As I packed away my ornaments this year, I noticed on the back of one a distinctive red and black hair stuck in the fabric, a tiny reminder of my old dog Huxley. It’s been in there at least five years, which is how long Huxley has been gone, but has probably been in there since the ornament was first made. Huxley used to curl up beside me on the couch while I stitched, a warm companion on those many cold Toronto nights. I started to pull the hair out of the fabric, but decided instead to leave it in. Huxley will be part of the Christmas celebration again next year, as she has done so sneakily for so many now.
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