One year for Valentine’s Day when I was growing up, my mother taped red doily hearts to the bay windows of our kitchen. It set my girlish heart aflutter. There could be nothing more romantic than red doilies in the shape of hearts!
My mother always had a way of making the holidays special at our house. She would be the first person to denounce Americana or anything too craftsy as hokey, and yet she had precious decorations that only came out for the various holidays.
Living in a tiny New York City walkup with limited storage space, I’ve had to relinquish more and more holiday decorations with each move I’ve made. It just never seems to make sense to pack up little trinkets that at most only get a few weeks of display time.
My “practical” decision making doesn’t bode well for my whimsical side, though. The holidays seem to come and go without much fanfare, and New Year’s bleeds into Valentine’s Day, both vanishing into forgotten dreams. I get wrapped up in my writing, in attending readings and visiting museums, and of course in shopping, and I forget to pause and really celebrate life. I’m forever thankful for small moments, but I think sometimes we need to actually celebrate—even if it’s as simple as Scotch-taping a few doilies to the window.