My brother was home from college and I was a busy high school student. Neither of us felt any guilt when we refused to help our parents decorate for Christmas. We didn’t have the time or the patience to haul boxes from the basement, test bundles of tree lights, unwrap ornaments, or help move furniture. Maneuvering around the boxes stacked in the living room, we escaped for the afternoon. I remember coming home, happy to see the lights flickering in the windows, the large evergreen wreath on the door, and a sense that the season had truly arrived. Entering the house, I realized my parents had made a unique choice in decorating that year. In years past, my brother and I had intentionally ignored the childhood art projects and old family ornaments that had been carefully preserved in pieces of old newspaper.