The Advent Calendar

"It's too early." Said my friend Jordan as I was texting him about Christmas decor. 

It is only October 20th, but I love this time of year. I love the next even more. To me, Christmas time should be a last-quarter-of-the-year event. The time of Jesus's birth should be most of the year, but I have limits. Also, as much fun as Jordan makes fun of me, I counted, and there are only 66 days until Christmas. 

Everybody wants to wait, yet then they all talk about how much scrambling they end up doing at the end. Why not take advantage of the nice days and unpack the Christmas stuff now? Of course, I am not going to turn them on, just unpack, make an inventory of what I need. After all, the stores already have their Christmas stuff up, so why not us? 

As I notice a break in our conversation, I put my phone in my pocket and continue exploring the goods. I unpack some garland, some Christmas pillows, even a random stocking. As I piled the stuff on the side, I wondered if this box had any of the more, fragile ornaments in here packed with its own soft decor. 

"Ahh, there you are." I said to myself surprisingly-pleased. 

"Rachel!" Yelling up to my wife through the open garage door. 

As I wait for her response, nostalgia washes over me. All the recalled memories to form a hodgepodge of feelings, a consistent feeling of warmth. Ignoring the other decorations and the original intent of my digging. I am no longer taking inventory, but admiring the craft of our beautiful advent calendar. 

I look closely at the black roof and white siding, the white and red on the inside of the house, the flat interior with little boxes and matching doors with numbers hand-painted, and a painted metal Santa. The woodwork has a depth that really drew me in when we found it, despite the overall shadow box effect. The chimney was my main concern, for this piece always seemed to get caught in boxes over the years. 

Holding the wood-carved exterior, admiring the detail work on all the little boxes and the little doors they open, I see a little plastic baggy with white strips of paper in them. The memories of years before our daughter was born where inside the little boxes were prizes me or my wife hid inside. We typically exchanged days, her even and me odd. I can recall certain times and treasures, and one scavenger hunt at the end. 

A sigh exhaled. I push back the calendar as if needed to take in the entire image. I am no longer looking for anything in particular, just piecing out the memories, both from me as an adult, but further into my childhood.  

Growing up, my family always had the same advent calendar, which consisted of little stuffed animals you would Velcro on to the fabric tree right above it. Then in the pocket you took the little animal out of there was usually a candy. Every year the billowy characters were always mixed and put into different spots, except for Santa, his face was always in the pouch with a 24 on it, Christmas Eve. On that day, right as I would put the cheery, soft-eyed man as the last piece of the tree's puzzle on top, my dad and I would go out for our annual Christmas Eve shopping. 

Though my wife and I's advent calendar still hasn't been in the family that long, this year will mark our daughter's 3rd Christmas. Hopefully in another 41 days when she opens that first little door we can continue our own memories with this one. 

As I hand the wooden calendar to my wife who came down during my nostalgic recalling, she too must have felt something. As she holds the sides, much like I did, and she inspected the calendar of its lasting beauty, I could tell that this Christmas item meant so much to both of us, and hopefully someday for our daughter as she tells her own kids.