I was digging around for my Christmas spirit. I knew I'd left it somewhere. After the year we've had, the loss, the massive change, I wasn't sure where it could be.
And then, in the space of 24 hours, we hit up a local carol evening, and sang and danced in the rain. We drove home via the crazy lit-up Griswold houses. We visited Santa for the obligatory half-thrilled, half-terrified photo. We travelled along beautiful country roads to pick out a tree and cut it down. And we chose a corner of our home in which to set it up and decorate it.
And suddenly, there it was. Suddenly I was making pompom garlands and homemade gifts for teachers, downloading Bing Crosby and ordering ham. Every evening we turn on the lights and do a stocktake of the pressies underneath the tree.
No, you can't open them yet. Yes, you have to wait till Christmas morning.
Only three more sleeps.