Another Christmas Memory

Another Christmas memory is setting up the card table. I remember Mom at the beginning of December setting up a card table in the living room, where she’d sit and write Christmas cards. The warped cardboard-ish top pockmarked, no longer used for gaming, relegated to crafts and other projects, the metal legs uneven, wobble. That card table. Later she’ll bring out the wrapping paper and a box of leftover bows, bits of ribbon, scraps of tissue paper, etc. Nothing was wasted. Remnants were kept, like how frayed clothes became quilt squares.

Like how now I do the same thing.

I have a small fold out table and my own box of bows. The tiny house is cluttered—until I’m sick of the mess. Already I’m thinking this weekend I’ll put it away and relax, hopefully, the few days left before the big day.