Countdowns are exciting, right? Whether it's the ball dropping at midnight on New Year's Eve, the final seconds on the Super Bowl scoreboard, or opening little doors for twenty four days in December, there's something about ticking down toward culmination that is inherently satisfying. 

My first advent calendar memory is making one for my boyfriend when I was a new adult. I painstakingly cut out tiny holiday images from the grainy, quickly fading construction paper of our era. Pinterest, Instagram, and Tik-Tok weren't even gleams in their inventors' frontal lobes at the time, so I had to figure out how to create a Christmas-tree shaped template to line up the openable windows and the base paper beneath it. I Elmer's Glued tiny clumps of holly into one square, then a drum, wreath, and snowman into their own spaces. Santa was placed in the final box, because that was who advented for me then. 

I cut out more paper to decorate the front piece, pasting on ornaments and a gold (well, yellow) star at the top. The doors themselves had to be cut using a craft knife so they wouldn't appear opened. I used the X-Acto set my parents gave me when I was a kid. It was a lot like this one:

I used that thing for years.

There's no photographic evidence of my advent creation, unfortunately. I picture it transforming to dust in a box of moldering decorations stored in the attic of the place that eventually became our home. There's a high likelihood it's still up there. 

I have no idea what my then-boyfriend made of the gift. He may have loved it or thought it a complete waste of time. But in thinking about it now, I realize it doesn't matter. The creation process was super satisfying. Exceptionally fiddly but accomplishable. Making it was an action of self care that I didn't realize was happening. It required engineering, soothing dexterous tasks, and a whole bunch of creativity. I'm proud of it. 

The years passed, my folk-art calendar stopped appearing as part of our holiday decor, and kiddos arrived on the scene. When they were old enough, a new advent calendar tradition began: the chocolate kind! They tended to look something like this:

It was very important to get them calendars bearing different images. The younger most frequently got a Santa version. Sometimes they were both St. Nick, but the Santas had to be unique because the risk of volcanic outrage at the wrong calendar being opened was terrifying.

I continued the tradition into their adulthood and finally ended this year, when I recognized that the cheap, waxy  candy I sent was more about honoring my memories than a treat for them. 

Of course I could have upgraded to real chocolate. Even really good chocolate. Turns out they come in all price ranges. I found one online for $300, on sale from $375, and it includes free shipping! 

What a bargain! 

But fancy somehow didn't mesh with the visions dancing like sugar plums in my nostalgic head. 

Declan had a great idea though. He found a cute calendar featuring small stuffed toys with loops for hanging on a tree, and we sent that to our toddler grandchild. A new way of connecting, and honoring. He's a brilliant man, and a loving one; recognizing my yearning and then quietly thinking through how to fulfill it, in a new way. 

It's been a long time since the days of cutting and gluing construction paper on a TV stand in a rundown rental apartment. The world has turned and all of us with it. But love remains, and gifts from the heart still matter. Especially to the giver.

Wishing you a very happy advent, whatever that looks like for you.