Someone stole my nice Christmas wreath from the storage room.
Frankly, that sucks.
I discovered the theft tonight, when I finally decided it was time to take down the autumn leaf wreath I've had on the door for a couple of months. I am, at heart, a crafty girl (yes, it's a bad "fat middle-aged woman" kind of stereotype) and I make most of my own greeting cards, decorate my own wreaths, and on the spur of the moment can put together a pretty darn nice homemade gift.
A few years ago, I started decorating my own wreaths, using basic fake fir guys or the bent wood ones from Michaels (on the weeks when they're ridiculously cheap) and "picks" - the wee bits of seasonal decoration designed to be wrapped around and tucked into the wreath frames. The Sasquatch still has the Christmas one I made for him years ago (and it makes me happy to know he still uses it each year.) I made a couple for my old office, Job X, and I took one of them when I left, which has been tucked away in the basement since March 2005. It was a more basic wreath, without all the bells and whistles I put onto the one I made for my own apartment door. My home wreath had berries and funky leaves and pine cones, a handful of tiny bells, and a great red velvet bow. It was, if I say so myself, a pretty nifty number.
But it's gone now. Such a stupid thing to steal. It's not as if anyone could hang it on their door here in the building. (That would require a rather un-seasonal asskicking from yours truly.) I can only assume it's either hanging in someone's office somewhere, or it was maliciously tossed out by someone. Regardless, it made me sad to see it gone.
I dug through my dusty boxes and found the simple wreath from Job X to hang on my door. It's just got holly berries and a little gold and a big plaid bow. Nothing special. And yet, perhaps in putting it on the door, I'm reclaiming a little more of myself. It's an inanimate object, after all, not some dark talisman reminding me of how little those people thought of me. It's something I made. Time to take it back.
It's on my door now, and at the very heart of it is the small copper kokopelli figure I bought in Riverside, Iowa last year, on my trek with my brother's ashes. Having that little guy around is a reminder of my brother, and he's been on my door since I came back from that trip. First, he was alone, and then, he swayed in the center of my autumn wreath. Now, he's in my Christmas wreath. My nondescript Christmas wreath, made for a place where I was not wanted.
I hope that whoever stole my nice wreath finds pleasure in it. I hope that other people see it and find it festive and beautiful. I will take solace in that thought.
For now, I'll enjoy the simple wreath at home. In a way, it speaks to this whole year for me. A time of change, a time of adaptation, a time of downsizing, needing and wanting less, but hoping for more.
For hope really is a very good thing.