I posted this picture a year ago on Facebook, and the site reminded me of it today as a look back.

Initially, I was reluctant to re-post this image. It made me mildly sad this morning when I saw the Facebook “memory.”

This picture depicts the final Christmas in the house we called a home for 21 years. It’s dark this year. We’re no longer living there. We have moved on — more or less. Our “home” these days is a 28-foot fifth wheel recreational vehicle. It’s parked in a location on the other end of Amarillo. The house? It’s heading for the market, folks.

This is a season of joy for us. It’s also a season of big change that awaits us just down the road. We don’t quite yet know precisely where the road will take us.

Don’t misunderstand. We have a general idea where we’re going to resettle. It will be somewhere near our granddaughter, who’s now 4 years of age. Every friend we’ve told of our plans — and the reason for our move — has expressed total understanding and support for us. “That’s the best reason I can think of,” I’ve heard from many of our friends.

However, as I look at the picture attached to this blog post, I am reminded of one of the precious memories this house brought us.

***

It was Dec. 22, 1996. We had just taken possession of this house, which we had built. We had lived in a one-bedroom apartment since early 1995. Our furniture was stashed away in a storage compartment.

We closed on the house. We called the mover, who then delivered our goods. We unpacked them.

Our Christmas tree that year was a potted live Norfolk pine we brought with us from Beaumont. It stood about 4 feet tall. We found some Christmas lights, strung them around the tree.

We commenced opening our packed boxes and rediscovered the possessions we hadn’t seen in nearly two years.

It was — hands down — a glorious Christmas indeed in this structure that was filled with that “new house smell.”

That, too, was a season of change. To that end, the season has come full circle. We are anxious — and we are ready for whatever awaits.