The nearing end of the year always makes me a little melancholy. Remembering family Xmas’s long gone, fading, never to have those feelings of anticipation again. Nothing but happy memories of that little fibro house in the backyard, hot sweaty summers and the sound of cicadas. A plastic green Christmas tree, and the worn cardboard box from under the bed. A box full of secrets and mementos. Letters tied with string, old photos, an empty, small champagne bottle, a wedding head dress, pressed between tissue paper. It was also a box of magic, magic that was held in suspended animation inside the old glass baubles and tinsel.
I loved that little cardboard box, it’s probably why I love making Xmas decorations now. In the hope that someone out there shares that same feeling of joy that such objects can bring. A little colour, a little brightness into the world. A remembrance of our childhood, of those feelings of something new was about to happen.
