The snow globes, and crèches are back in their boxes—
the perfect Christmas tree and wreaths are now out in the chicken yard, repurposed to hold bird seed and small treats for our beloved flock.

The world has returned to its normal cadence.
The holidays are being swept quietly into memory.

And yet, with each passing year, the memories grow.
Time quickens.

I find myself lingering longer now.
Not out of nostalgia, but out of recognition.
This is how it goes.
And this is how I stay.