We took down the Christmas tree last week.

The ornaments came off.

The lights were untangled.

Everything went back into their boxes.

The boxes went back on the shelves in the basement.

The tree was bare.

And then it went outside for pickup.

It is just Deb and me, again.

There are still some remnants of the holidays.

Carl, the Christmas Reindeer pillow, is still on the couch. Looking sleepy.

The outside lights are still up and turn on in the evening.

But Christmas is mostly packed away.

It reminds me of the paradox of being a parent.

You want your kids around.

But you also want them to be self-sufficient and independent.

Which means being okay with them living far away.

Caileigh and Chris live in Ottawa. About 520kms away.

Keaton and Kate live in Fort St. John. About 4100kms away! And they couldn’t get home for Christmas. We’ll see them in February.

Tara lives with us but spends most of her time in St. Catharines. It’s only about 50kms away.

The real gift of Christmas for Deb and me is spending time with our kids.

We share them with the families of their significant others.

But we’re glad they have significant others.

Glad that they’ve found lovely people to love. And to be loved by.

Glad that we get to see them even for short amounts of time.

The tree may be down, but the spirit of love remains.