There's always a straggler left behind. The rebel decoration that doesn't want to join its comrades already packed away neatly in boxes. It hides out discreetly until the sun emerges to cast its bright light through the window. Dancing with joy from the forced heated air, glimmers of light shoot from the last tinsel and reflect across the wall. The distraction causes me to bring my nose from the book to the strange light. I see the last tinsel waving hello to me.
If only it had shown itself a couple of days ago it would be nestled safely with all the other decorations awaiting to return next Christmas. I feel bad ripping it off the wall and throwing it away, but only for a second.