I put Christmas away today. The festivities were done, the gifts settled into their new lives, and the wrapping tissue recycled. All that remained were unlit strands and dusty spheres hanging limp upon a fake tree. I had grown weary of their accusatory presence, the way they seemed to mourn the passing of the season.
Traditionally, my mother never took the tree down until January 6th, the Epiphany. It was the day the Three Kings strode into the manger, bringing Gold, Frankincense, and Myrrh. For us four children, there was always one last small gift tucked into the branches. It was a tradition I carried on for my own daughters, even as they grew into women.
Like the dismantled decorations, our tree has long forgotten the weight of those final gifts, but it hasn’t forgotten the date. This January 6th ritual is a thread that connects me to my children, my childhood, and a long line of mothers before me, even those whose lives were steeped in the Hinduism of my mother’s heritage rather than the traditions of the Church. It is a lineage of hands, all doing the same work of keeping the light.
This is our second Christmas in this house. Last year, discovering I had left our old decorations in a storage unit in Calgary, I bought and crafted brand-new ones to adorn the branches of the tree I bought. But as I began tucking them away this year, I felt a sudden, heavy lack of memory. The ornaments felt like strangers in my hands. To me, the soul of Christmas is found in the tug of memory; the way a single glass bulb can tether us to every December we have ever lived, and even, in subtle ways, to the ones yet to come.
So, this year, I decided to create a new history.
With each decoration, I wove a story in my head about its journey home. The crystal balls I bought with my daughter in Vancouver became the prized possessions of a little girl who sang songs into the glass, hoping that one day, whoever held them would hear her sweet voice and feel at home, wherever in the world they were. Three miniature pottery houses became the dwellings of a fairy family whose only job was to light the forest with their sparkle, until a hunter found them and brought them home to his wife, who cherished them until her last breath.
And on it went.
As these stories wove into the ritual of packing, I felt the heaviness lift. I love Christmas, but I have found it harder to savour when the traditions I once held dear have come unwound through moving and the shifting facts of life.
But today, I found myself smiling at the past, rather than regretting its shifting sands. I stopped mourning the boxes left behind and began to cherish the artifacts in my hands. As I tucked each crystal ball away, I didn’t just see decorations; I heard the faint, shimmering echo of a little girl’s song. I didn’t see store-bought pottery; I saw the lingering glow of fairy light.
I put Christmas away today. It was no longer a chore, but a moment of respite. A quiet bow to the laughter of the past and a soft invitation to the Christmases yet to come. Whatever the future brings, and whoever pulls up a chair to the table, there will be stories to tell: some newly lived, and some gently released to the stars.
Dare Boldly 
aaah, Christmas memories! We used to gather, all of us, with partners, families, kids, pets, instruments and food, at the largest place of our extended family – it was so loud, often incredibly beautiful and touching, and more and more often an unbearable burden – getting together, singing and playing music together, outwardly great fun and wonderful, inwardly a tremendous void because unhappiness was showing its ugly being to oneself…. I changed my tree decorations so many times, I had years of ‘all things blue’ etc., one year of ‘only moons’, others with glass ornaments only, some years rich and colourful, others understated – AND having a child and a dog, many visitors and children playing around didn’t help for being ‘sophisticated’ for a long time….. and with my frequent moves (I think I once counted 20 moves, 4 countries, 2 continents), the lack of space, and needing more time for everything, my personal need of a tree waned too. This last Xmas, I ‘only’ decorated our large dining table with some much beloved things, outside I have hardy Christmas roses in pots, a large wooden star, made from a felled tree from my sister’s former garden, outside my front door I hung this year 3 large-ish stars from natural twigs and a hand-made wreath of sewn hearts and some deco. I had (and am still collecting) little tokens of Christmas in the apartment, many, many light strings (I keep all year round), what stays are some 9 old candlesticks I collected over my years in England and France with candles I light every morning and evening. I spend my money on candles these days and they give me so much joy, LIGHT in these dark times, warmth – money well spent!
And yes, next October/November, 2 or 3 very large boxes will be brought to local ‘Brockenhaus’ stores (donations to be sold for charity); as will be another 3 to 4 wreaths I bought over the years abroad and here, and two Christmas trees…. Less is more!
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I really enjoyed your blog today – so beautifully written about Christmas and some of your family’s traditions. It’s hard to believe this is your second Christmas on the Island already. Time goes by so quickly. Hope you and your family enjoy good health, happiness and joy in 2026🎄🙏🏻🪸. Val
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Thank you Val — and yes, it does. Go by so quickly. We love it here – though CCs health continues to deteriorate, we are savouring each moment.
Happy New year to you dear Val. May it be loving, healthy and joyful!
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How sad to lose all your “heritage” ornaments. You must have been gutted. How lovely you made new memories with the new ones.
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It was hard, yet, hopeful too. I gave them to my ‘TaDa’ (tall daughter), my girlfriend’s daughter who calls me her ShoMo (short mom). She and her new husband were just moving into their first house from a tiny, tiny apartment and had few decorations — she has been at so many of our Christmas dinners over the years, it felt wonderful to know my decorations would be gracing her tree. ❤
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oh how I would have loved to do that too, Louise. I am currently giving away my (very) few jewelleries to friends and daughters of my nieces, as well as to my ‘daughter of choice’ (ex partner of my son, I ‘adopted’ her as my daughter and both of them are happy about this ‘transition’) and I love that my beloved pieces of value are being changed into new pieces of ‘belonging’ for them. It’s so liberating and nobody will have to fight over a few thousands of money once I’ll be gone.
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Beautiful!
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❤ ❤ ❤
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Thank you so much for your post Louise! It was beautiful to me to read how you reframed the traditions of Christmas left behind and found the magic going forward. As someone who has moved often and disposed of the ornaments and spaces that held my traditions it was uplifting and an encouragement! Happy New Year
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How lovely to read your note this morning Helen! And yes — you have moved a lot! I’m so grateful this story found its way to your heart! Hugs! Happy New Year to you too! ❤
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Beautiffly written Louise! ❤️
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❤ ❤ ❤
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