We slid right from Thanksgiving into Christmas this year. It must have been the late date, but it seems like there used to be a little in between room-just a few days of hazy turkey induced calm before we ramped up for Christmas. Or maybe that’s just me?
As I go about my week I keep finding that the nostalgia of Christmas is getting to me. Sometimes, just sometimes I find myself on a mission to reclaim all the shiny bright goodness of Christmas’s past. I want to bottle it and then throw it all around, a glitter filled cannon exploding through the house. I can blame it on hormones, and tell myself that thirty five is probably too young to wish for menopause, just so I can get things over with. But I really think it’s something we do every Christmas. We ball up all our hopes and memories of the glory filled Christmas’s that have gone by, and try like mad to create it all over again this Christmas. But this Christmas is not last Christmas and it certainly won’t be next Christmas, and why do we try so hard to make that so?