Christmas ended with a thud at our house this year.
The tree came down today. It's being hauled away now. I've already vacuumed up the green carpet of needles it left behind.
And I'm anxious to organize and do something with the presents we all got, too. Mostly, it's Rye's new toys that are just out and about.
I hated Christmas this year. Times aren't good.
Rye is wonderful as always. And despite some I suspect inevitable greed that crept in during present opening ("Can I open another present now?"), he's been well-behaved and seemingly happy through what has been some rough times at home.
Do you ever feel this way? Like you don't have any idea what happened, how you got where you are? Like you don't know what should happen? Or you think you know, but every choice seems unbelievably scary?
That's where I am.
And so Christmas, and all the joy it usually represents, is over. And I'm glad.
Maybe New Year's will be better. Or maybe that's too soon for anything to be better.
But 2009, I have hope.