I have always loved the week between Christmas and New Year's Eve. In my childhood it was a week spent immersed in the newness of whatever my Christmas gifts had been; exploring to the fullest the possibilities of each new toy, the pages of every book, the hue of each crayon or marker or paint. When I was a little older, with the limited and misplaced priorities of the average middle schooler, the post-Christmas pre-New Year's week seemed to be a time to determine how my new possessions redefined me.Because it was, after all, all about me. And as a teenager it became a full seven days to make plans for New Year's Eve, or, more specifically, what to wear on New Year's Eve. Something shiny and new, without question.
Even now, as a (sometime) grownup, a sense of newness fills this week. I'd like to think my priorities are slightly better ordered at this point in my life, and I can say with certainty that I have come to understand that I am defined by my actions rather than my possessions, (though I will readily admit to still wondering what to wear on New Year's Eve) but still that sense of newness lingers...Even in the quiet, restful week we're having in our home (much quieter than usual with Riley being sick) I see the signs all around.
New Lincoln Logs and Legos to mix with the old = a million new things to be built. While staying in new Batman jammies all day, of course.
New purple polka-dot ribbon tutu that Mamma is amazed to have spotted not on the body of a certain little girl.
New project ideas forming...new 'inspiration' stacks and piles appearing all through the house.
New habits and goals to reach for.
(This alarm clock was Laurelei's favorite Christmas gift- isn't it funny the things we become attached to?)
And in my mind, a whirl of thoughts that include both old and new. Memories of the year that has passed and hopes and dreams for the year to come. An appreciation for what's used and loved, and an anticipation for moments shiny and new.
I hope to share them with you.