Christmas is officially over. January 6, the holiday’s 12th day is past. I have turned off the outside lights, and I’m starting, today, to dismantle the tree and take down decorations. Tedious work without the joy that attends putting them up. There is no anticipation of parties to come, gifts, food, and company. There is only the darkness of January and February and the promise of spring in March with Bluebonnets. It seems a long way off.

But all is not lost. I have decided this year I will decorate a bit for Valentine’s Day, and probably Easter, too. My late wife gifted me with an array of decorations which include a selection of doilies for table tops and the like. I believe in what’s left of January, I will take inventory, and apply  a little organization to the collection. It seems a nice tradition to carry on and a fine way to put a little color in the room and stop my house from becoming a tomb of sorts. I may even add an item or two that strike my fancy.

All in all. I believe it’s the doing that counts most. Taking control. The house is my space now. As I’ve come to realize that I’ve taken more responsibility for how it looks and feels. In the past, it was mostly the territory of my wife. I put a few things up, but the overall design was hers. Now it’s mine. I obviously liked what she did. It was us. But now it’s me and I’m going to build on the us and take it to a new level, or a new place. And that’s okay. Over time we all become the accumulation of our loves and our friends and our families. They touch us in different ways and change us and make us the people we are.

John W. Wilson is the author of The Long Goodbye: A Caregiver's Tale