I just got done filling stockings. They’re currently slumped against my bedroom wall, as full as they’re going to get. Likewise, the stack of gifts below the tree downstairs isn’t getting any bigger. The breakfast menu I’ve planned isn’t getting any more ambitious, either. The stores are closed, the night is over, my work here is done.
I didn’t hit all the marks, but that’s what next year, or the year after, or…never is for.
For now, all I can do is give myself thanks and gratitude for the effort I put in.