The day after Christmas. The tree is now barren with presents, which recently were stacked around it's base, opened and gone. The plates of cookies looked 'picked over,' with only those with coconut or raisins remaining. There never was snow on the ground for a real Christmas look. Rain is falling and freezing on contact. Not festive. The Nativity has gotten a little dusty and the Santa Clauses look out of place. Too late for this holiday; too early for the next.

What remains to brighten the end of the year? Memories. Taking up a whole pew for the Christmas Eve service. Family sitting around a great-grandmother's antique dining room table working on a 2000-piece puzzle. The aroma of soups: potato, vegetable and chicken noodle. The warm glow of a fire. Games played on the floor. Happy memories of Christmases past. Stockings filled with gifts. The maturity of a 21-year old who now is excited to receive her wished-for crock-pot. The maturity of an 18-year old who only wanted a trip to a Christian youth gathering. Memories of a Garmin all programmed with nowhere to go. A Harry Potter DVD.

Family. When the only reasonable response is, "It's just what I needed."

And that's what I think about it.