The Santa Saga

IMG_1718The two oversized cardboard boxes arrived while we were out of town.

After we got home, they stayed right where they were — smack in the entry, in everyone’s way, unopened and untouched. I already knew what was inside: Santas. Lots and lots of ceramic Santas. They were from my grandmother’s collection. She adored them. How she had the space to store them all, I don’t know. Over the years, she had given me some and they joined the mish-mash that is our family’s Christmas decor, none of which would ever be featured in a Martha Stewart Living magazine.

After my grandma passed away in May, relatives began claiming mementos. I had my memories. That felt like enough. My aunt thought we should have the Santas. All of them.

Now, I’m terribly sentimental. I can’t help it. I really wish I could because I hate being so gooey that I cry at the most blatantly saccharine commercials and even at the goofiest of movies if there is the slightest bit of on-screen gushiness. My family is still mocking me for blubbering at the “Jumanji” remake. Well, excuuuuuuse me for not having a heart the size of a crusty little booger.

But while I may be overly emotional, I also already have a storage room crammed full of Christmas.

“Throw them away,” was my husband’s advice.

“I am not going to do that!”

Guess which one of us doesn’t keep anniversary and Valentine’s Day cards.

For the past two weeks, I stared at the huge boxes filled with bubble-wrapped Santas bobbing in a sea of hot pink packing peanuts that Dog No. 3 thought were even tastier than the mesquite pods she’s been Hoovering on our morning walks. I loved my grandma, not so much the Santas. While the practical side of me recognizes these are just material things, the completely irrational side is having a harder time coming to terms with getting rid of things that were so precious to her. It would be so much easier if I were hoarder. Crowded, but easier.

Finally, I reached a decision. Some of the Santas will stay, keepsakes for the kids. The rest will be donated and hopefully happily re-homed with some sweet little old lady who will fall in love with them after she sees them on a Goodwill store’s shelves. Just like someone will do one day with my shoe collection.




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