Anyway. As it is December first, and thus the Christmas season in my books I unpacked my few Christmas possessions. There is something enchanting about blowing off the dust of forgetfulness and pulling out old familiar items that seem to speak through the hands, whispering of past pleasantness with friends and a different me, even if there are no distinct memories. That I think, is part of the magic of the season. There are so many material items, foods, songs, and acted out traditions that only happen at Christmas that over and over again that enchanted dust is blown off.
The other day I was talking with my parents and brother about the one time we had Christmas with my grandparents. None of us remembered it very well at all. We decided that because it had been so entirely different from our other Christmases, so few of those memory things were unpacked or done that it hardly seemed like Christmas and so it faded from our minds like it barely existed.
Our DecemBear Advent Calandar
