The tree has been gone for weeks, the stuffed snowmen have long since left the mantel, and the Christmas tablecloth is laundered and put away for next year.Â Â But the Nativity set remains.Â It’s just so pretty; I can’t quite bring myself to banish it to a box for the next eleven months.Â Â I think the color scheme (or lack thereof) makes a difference, too;Â it doesn’t scream “December” like so many of my red and green decorations do.
Plus I think there’s a teeny bit of me that still wishes it were Christmas.Â What can I say?Â I love the season.Â Always have, always will.
Any time I voice that sentiment aloud, it’s the cue for my husband to tap his chest dramatically.Â “Christmas is always here, in our hearts,” he says in a Hallmark-Movie-of-the-Week type voice, positively dripping with sap.Â I laugh, and change the subject.
But the Nativity Set remains.Â Â At some point, I’ll feel the need to box it up, to slip Mary and the wise men and the sheep into their sculpted beds of styrofoam.Â Up into the closet it will go, this last vestige of the holidays.
But not yet.