Day 16: Holly, Jolly

There is nothing quite as deflating as the blankness of a room after Christmas decorations have been taken down. The empty tree stand left outside on the patio, the half-wall stacked with folded laundry instead of hanging with stockings, the pile of wrapping paper rolls balanced on the monstrous blue plastic tote to be returned to the basement. It’s insulting, really, to spend an evening with no twinkling lights, to open a door with no wreath, to stand at a kitchen counter with no cookies. I put the stray cut of ribbon, almost eaten by the vacuum, into my pocket.