There were presents. Laughter. Sparkly lights and baby giggles. Good food, good conversation, and lots of love.
We missed our adventurers but on Christmas Eve, via the wonders of Skype, I heard the church bells ringing out across a snowy village in the Swiss Alps, calling worshipers to adore the newborn King. It was magical.
After our dinner we took a long walk to the beach. Crisp air, significant wind and blue skies helped us digest the turkey et al.
Yesterday, the guests all left. And packing began. I waited until this morning to dismantle the tree. But it's sort of sad. It doesn't look Christmassy around here any longer.
This move is a partial one. We're leaving most of our stuff in this house, staged to look good to prospective buyers. We kept our home in the city and will be moving there. For the first month, we'll be in the basement suite, then, when our tenants leave, we'll move upstairs. We'll decide then whether or not to hire the movers then or leave the house still set up. Hopefully, it will sell in January. It's all a bit complicated, but Tim's job is based out of the city, and I can begin teaching on call there, so it seemed best to move now.
Had we known what we know now we would have rented here. Instead, we spent most of our 21 months here in a flurry of renovations. Sigh.
I have the best husband in the world. On Christmas Eve I sent him to the store to get a pound of butter. He came home with the butter AND a bouquet of flowers. So, while the boxes and mess fill up the house, every once in awhile I look at the vase of white, green and red, take a breath and smile. There's a little pretty left here.