No Fall Decorating This Year

It’s silly, really. Such a small, insignificant thing, especially in light of all the trials each day brings. But we have been in transition, cramped together in a smallish space for over six months now. We are without our things, our comforts, and sentimental doodads as we await the completion of our home renovation. All but the bare necessities are tucked away in a grim storage unit off the highway. Such places are often grim and full of more longing than promise. Or so it seems. We hope to be moved in and somewhat settled in time for Christmas. The boys have been troopers but really ache to be settled in the place we will call home. For now, we are managing nicely, albeit feeling cooped up. In typical American fashion, we just yearn to spread out. But mostly, I miss having our home to ring in the holiday season.

This is the time of year we decorate with all things fall. We gather acorns to fill hurricanes and nestle pumpkins onto the mantel. There are pumpkins to carve and glass bowls to fill with the addictive combination of salted peanuts and candy corn. There are glow-in-the-dark bat eyes and creepy crawlies to scatter on the kitchen table and scarecrows to prop up in the yard. Alas, this year there will be no decorative gourds.

You see, it’s not the act of decorating that has me down. It’s that Bird and Deal are 10 and 8 and there’s no decorating. There are no seasonal crafts and hand turkeys this year. Time is fleeting, and I worry that the boys will lose their sense of wonder by this time next year. I already see the signs in Bird. I glimpse a growing, maturing boy. Dare I say it? A tween in my midst. Yet at other times he is the same little boy who snuzzled on my lap not so long ago. I close my eyes and think of this, and how very fleeting it is, every time I feel his head on my shoulder and his breath on my neck when we read or just sit for a spell to chat. Deal is still very much a little kid. I think he always will be at heart. But he too sways between his little boy and growing boy self. Will next fall come ’round with no mention of carved pumpkins and scary tombstones in the yard? Will they both start rolling their eyes and walk away as I try to recount their days as little ones? Will this time be but a faint memory? 

There’s no decorating this year. But at age 45, I’m proof that the wonder of the season carries on.