Although there was more kitchen time than normal required this year, with friends coming over to help celebrate, the house was quiet and empty. My children were at school and my husband was in San Francisco, making it easy to focus on the task at hand. In fact the atmosphere in my home felt downright therapeutic

There was dough to be made for Hanukkah cookies, which took the shape of dreidels, jars of oil, candles and the star of David. These goodies exist each Hanukkah thanks to a box of cookie-cutters given to me by my mother years ago. There were the traditional latkes--potato pancakes--to grade and blend. Thank goodness for the invention of the Cuisinart. There was a turkey breast to cook, and a brisket to take out of the freezer. I prepared the brisket over the weekend. There's only so much that can be accomplished in one day.

But even as the ovens were warming and the cookie dough was ready for rolling, there were other aspects of the day that became my gift.

To make the house festive I took the decorative table cloth and placemats out of the closet. I located the funky napkin-holder that's shaped like a dreidel. I gathered up all the menorahs, and I got out the blue napkins. Blue and white are the colors of the Israeli flag, so we celebrate with a lot of blue.

But the pinnacle of the day was digging out the box of Hanukkah decorations. I forgot what was in it. There's a paper- collage menorah picture, with sparkle glue for light candles. My daughter made it somewhere around her 9th birthday. There's a small gift box my son decorated probably when he was about 5. There's our sign we hang over the fireplace each year that says, "Happy Chanukah," with a ch instead of just an h. I have never understood why translated Hebrew words have that ch in front of it; it's like an Americanization of the Hebrew language. But at the time my kids liked the color of the sign so we went with the alternate spelling and have been chuckling over it ever since. The box also had some old sponge stamps that were shaped in stars and dreidels that have long since gotten old and stiff. Yet I can't seem to get rid of these ancient sponge markers that have the remnants of old blue paint. Digging around in the box I also discovered a couple of small wooden dreidels, a piece of Hanukkah gelt--chocolate covered money--that must have fallen in when we cleaned up last year or perhaps years earlier. There is also an old star of David decoration that use to open like a paper accordion. It's a bit torn so it can't be used anymore, but it's still in the box. It hung for years from our dining room chandelier.

Honestly, there were so many unusable items in the box, I had to wonder why in the world would I keep all this stuff. But the answer was simple. It was all history--a little bit like the Velveteen Rabbit story. Every item, even the used and damaged ones were a memory of a Hanukkah past. So how could I get rid of those things, even if their usefulness had long since lived out their welcome.

I image everyone, no matter what religion, has a box of memories that they pull out over the holidays. Bits and pieces of history that remind them of holidays past. Those are the true gifts of the season, and why we celebrate with our families each year.

This year opening that forgotten box was my Hanukkah gift. Quiet time, by myself looking through the treasures of my family's past that had been stored away during the year. And when the holiday is over, and that box is packed and closed once more, perhaps another memory or two will slip inside that plain cardboard container, and surprise me next year when I take it out of storage.

Moryt Milo is the editor of The Willow Glen Resident. She can be contacted at 400.200.1051 or mmilo@svcn.com.