It has taken an all-out Smith family effort to accomplish. By late afternoon the day after the golden apples arrive, I am surveying the house room by room, making sure it’s ready for our first holiday guest. Rick’s friend and coworker Terry Molnar is on his way. Megan and I have exhumed my collection of Santa figurines, who now stand at attention on the sideboard in the living room. The ones that don’t fit are spreading the spirit of the season in some unexpected spaces. Made of glass, carved from chestnut, molded in porcelain and plastic, or hand sewn, each figure is a vessel of Christmas memories. A foot-tall Santa dressed in a green coat flashes the peace sign from behind a shower curtain in the guest bathroom, and I park a rotund Père Noël beside our bathroom scale, a reminder not to overindulge. Rick and I had few contentious moments in our marriage, but the extent of my Santa collection definitely created several. Once, as we were packing the figurines away for the season, Rick asked me which of the jolly old elves was my favorite.
