the stockings are drooping in front of the fireplace, the christmas tree is looking just a tad tattered. the mountain range of presents that extended from one end of the room to the other has melted away like spring snow. the cookie jars are filled with broken bits, the cakes and pies are crumbs. even the leftovers are gone.
as Beloved said, it was the most christmas-y of christmases.
all that remains is to dismantle the decorations, wash the dishes, steam the carpets. a mini-house cleaning, some smudging and saging, and it will be time to settle in for a long winter's nap.
the snow's piled like white fleece at the bases of the trees, drifts over Beloved's jetty like a blanket. come sleep, it seems to say.
and i will.
and furthermore, the war must end. blessed be.