a message in ink

December 28, 2012 at 6:00 am · Filed under stories and tagged: Christmas, gift, Holiday, Present, Shopping

All the newspaper-wrapped gifts tucked under the tree.

A pile of Christmas gifts for 2012 (don’t worry Ann & dad, your gifts are in there!)

Ink-smudged fingers in the aftermath of wrapping gifts.

All the gifts have been unwrapped!

As stewards of the environment, we collect, iron, and reuse the pink ribbons.

A stack of gifts; a pile of newsprint.

Ann and Dale clean up the gift-opening mess.

< by Jill >

Many subtle signs whisper Christmas is coming. They crop up around October, when grocery shelves suddenly brim with pumpkin-flavored everything. Then, the scent of cinnamon begins to curl throughout convenience stores, luring you to the seasonal department — at this point just one aisle — where three-wick candles and boxed ornaments line up in red-green-red-green formation. A few neighbors string up lights, a few stores dress their awnings with garland, and then — BOOM — you hear it, the wandering bell-chimes that kick off All I Want for Christmas Is You.

By now, Christmas is nigh and the previously subtle signs evolve into persistent, uproarious car salesmen who live to remind that you that SUNDAY SUNDAY SUNDAY is the last day for free shipping, guaranteed delivery, etc. etc.

Once again — BOOM — it’s all over. And this is where we find ourselves today.

In my family, there is one symbol that maintains it subtlety, bridging the coming and going with neither sound nor scent. It’s newsprint ink. Prior to Christmas, we wrap all our gifts in newspaper. By the time everything’s bundled up, our fingertips are nearly black. On Christmas day, our fingertips are blackened once again in the process of unwrapping the gifts.

This year, in the midst of swaddling packages, I noticed that my inky fingerprints had smudged a white box. I grabbed a tissue to dab it off, but then decided against it. Most likely, that box will be used again and again. I figure that next year, when it’s pulled out of storage, the ink smudges will whisper Christmas is coming.

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