I see it from time to time as I drive this time of year.
It always catches my eye.
Some would say I only notice it because it is red.
I would say it is something more.

This is the time of year the Christmas decorations are seen.
Everyone has their own taste, their own style.
The decorations tend to convey that style in their choice and their placement.
The decorations that are my favorite tend to match my style.

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The kitchen floor needed to be washed.
I have to wait until the house is quiet before I get out the bucket and mop.
I have to wait until the house is almost empty.
Only then can I be sure that there will not be any feet on the clean floor.

I am sure there are women who wash their floors every week.
I am not one of them.
I have my spray bottle of white vinegar and water.
I can spot clean any time there is a need.

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It was the spreadsheet that I remember.
It was hand made not computer generated.
It was hung on our refrigerator.
It was checked every day.

The spreadsheet was made by my oldest son.
He wanted an organized way to keep track of our countdown.
Counting down the days until Christmas was of upmost importance.
Just remembering was not enough; he had to make it official.

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In the mail each day, there are always items that can be classified as junk.
When my husband brings in the mail, he separates it on the kitchen island.
You got some catalogs; I put them on your desk.
I always want to answer him, They are not my catalogs; they are junk mail.

There they are on my desk in the kitchen.
Catalogs with names of stores I do not know.
Catalogs for places I have never ordered from before.
I always wonder how my name gets on the list to receive them.

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I watched the little girl approach the manger display.
It was one of those plastic manger scenes that people have on their front lawns.
Her mother stopped to talk to someone she knew.
They were talking in front of the Christmas trees.

I watched the little girl stand in front of the Baby Jesus.
I saw her look over at her mother.
I saw her turn her eyes back towards the manger scene in front of her.
I was mesmerized by what followed.

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We have a chair in our living room.
It is just an ordinary chair in appearance.
It is an extraordinary chair in function.
It is the chair we each take turns to sit in on Christmas morning.

Our living room is the room where we have our Christmas tree.
It is the room with the baby grand piano.
It is the room that is painted a warm cranberry red.
It is the room that has bookcases filled with books.

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When I was a little girl, you waited for the Christmas specials to come on TV.
They were only shown once during the season.
You had to look in the TV Guide to find out when your favorites would be shown.
That’s the way it was in the days of three channel TV.

Eventually, a few other stations were added.
However anything of any significance was shown on CBS, ABC, or NBC.
You waited patiently for Rudolph, Frosty, and Santa Claus Is Coming To Town.
Then there were the favorite movies that needed to be watched.

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I put my cartload of groceries on the belt as they moved forward.
I heard the scanner as each item was ready to be bagged.
Paper or plastic? The cashier asked me.
Both please; I will help you bag as soon as I get this cart unloaded, I told her.

As if on cue, she approached me.
I see her each week.
She has a perpetual smile on her face.
She has perfect porcelain skin.

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I found an angel.
Not Clarence from, It’s A Wonderful Life, type angel.
This was a wooden angel.
I saw her tucked away in a corner of one of my favorite stores.

She had a rustic, primitive look about her.
She was about three-feet tall.
Her wings were made of pressed tin.
Her arms were extended before her.

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I do not like glitter.
There, I said it.
Glitter is something I never liked.
Glitter is something I never had around the house for my children.

There is quite a lot of glitter this time of year.
Glitter on cards.
Glitter on wrapping paper.
Glitter on gift bags.

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