We’ve been on a Christmas high around here for the entire month of December. It started with a bevy of holiday parties, more than we’ve ever experienced before. And it ran through the usual gift purchasing and tree trimming and family gatherings.
Tomorrow, however, is the end. By that I mean the parties are over, the gifts have been given, and the tree is coming down. Our spirits have already begun their descent.
Usually we keep the tree up longer or – if you wish – take it down later. But there’s something about the frenzy of this year, alongside Sandy and Cliff (that physical and financial hurricane couple), that makes me want to contain the holiday season to December.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m not complaining about our Christmas. It’s just that I feel the need to meet the New Year in full battle regallia, and it’s difficult to do when your home is filled with blinking tree lights and snowmen accessories and snow globes and a sign that reads, “The fat man is coming.”
It’s just that he came, he saw, he conquered. And now he’s gone.
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