The Cause for Claus

Okay, so I admit it.  I count down the days left to Christmas.  Actually, at any point in time during the year, I can tell you exactly how many shopping days you have left.  To some folks, this characteristic is borderline talent.  To others, especially those last minute shoppers, it is annoying. 

If you were to see my home, you would know why I am always aware of what day it is.  My home is filled with Santa Claus.  It is not the largest collection of Santas in the world, but it is definitely something to see.  I try to limit this collection to my entry way and dining room, but its enormousness has the jolly old man spilling into the living room and up the staircase.  What makes my collection unusual, however, is that it is on display year round.  With the exception of the Christmas tree and my formal dining decorations, Santa graces our home, year round.

If you ask me “what’s up with all the Santa stuff?” my answer will most likely be a shoulder shrug.  Over the years, I’ve listened to acquaintances Lord that question over me as if it were a crime to display my Christmas things throughout the year.  What exactly, may I ask, is so wrong with the fat, happy man making an appearance year round?

Years ago, while going through a divorce and getting accustomed to single parenthood—nevertheless, while struggling through it, putting out the Christmas things became a chore.  The home in Texas that I owned at the time, was the treat of the street.  Kids came from down the block to take a peek through my front window and see all the season festivities.  It would literally take me days to unpack and unwrap my delicate ceramics and animated jolly men from their appropriate spaces in my garage. 

One year, I was sitting in the living room of this same home, a few days after Christmas, having tea with my next door neighbor.  We did this on a weekly basis until I moved away.  I looked around and said to her, “With all that’s going on, I’m too tired to put all this stuff away.”  She looked at me, shrugged her shoulders, and said “don’t” while taking a sip of tea.   Something in me changed that afternoon.  What a wise woman Connie was.