Today, we celebrate the feast of Epiphany, although the actual date is January 6th, not 4th. We marked the day by moving the Wise Men from the front windowsill to the nativity scene. (And playing at church, but that’s just a normal 1st & 3rd Sunday thing.) We are almost the lone hold-outs on our street in keeping the Christmas lights burning—though we’ve been bopping around the Midwest so much that it probably doesn’t look that way to our neighbors.
I always feel conflicted when we reach the end of the Christmas season. On the one hand, it’s such a relief to be home—done with long car rides, ready to get back into our routine of therapies, lessons, naps and bedtimes. And yet I feel wistful, too. It reminds me of the days when Mom would take us to the ice rink. After an hour and a half, I was tired and ready to be off the blades. Yet when Mom would call, “Time to go!” I would rush past the entrance for one last dash around the boards.
Just so, for the next two or three days, I’ll spend lots of time drinking in the sight of lights, ornaments, beads, garland and bows, dreading the moment when Christian says, “Okay, it’s time.”
There’s something so sterile about a house just un-decorated from Christmas. L
In the next room, the boys are watching Veggie Tales “Lord of the Bean” while Julianna prowls the base of the Christmas tree. This is making it very hard for me to concentrate. So I’ll just close by sharing with you a link to Einstein Syndrome, whose existence I just found today when Miriam commented here. What a beautiful, thoughtful site. Go check it out.
Kathleen M. Basi 
Kathleen, thank you for your kind words.
Thank you for the link to Einstein Syndrome. It was very lovely!