Twas the day after Christmas, and all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse. The stockings that hung by the chimney were bare, and the whole family was sound asleep, exhausted,  not quite ready to face the post holiday clean up.

Holiday eggnog, cookies, rich gravy, and  a calorie overload have us afraid to step on the scale, not to mention the need for some antacid to calm an iffy stomach.

Then, there is the prospect of the returns.  Sweaters that don’t fit.  Duplicate presents.  In our case, an enormous walker that was ordered in the wrong size.  That was a tough one, since it wouldn’t fit back in the box it came in this morning.  Guess I’ll have to run out to UPS and beg for their help.

But then, we settle down with a cup of coffee or hot chocolate. We sit back and think about all the family gatherings, the joy of seeing the smile of that first great grandchild,  the meals we were still able to host  in our own home.  Christmas afternoon:  skyping or talking on the phone with far away grandchildren.  Hearing their sweet young voices.  Thankful that they are all healthy and well.  And so, we decide it was a pretty good Christmas, after all.

At our age  , we realize how fortunate we are to have been around for another Christmas.  In spite of the inconveniences of old age—the creaky bones, hearing aids, failing eyesight, and  a plethora of prescription drugs,  we look to the future with optimism.

We’re not ready to take down the Christmas decorations just yet.  In fact we may leave them up for another week or so, as we enjoy all our gift boxes of goodies and other thoughtful presents from the people we love.