It never fails. The weeks leading up to the holidays I find myself in a sort of existential funk. I curse the heightened traffic and consumerism. I hide in my apartment to avoid people because my mood would only taint their day.
"I have no gift to bring"...
Some would say I'm a Grinch and I'll spark back "I've always loved Dr. Seuss!" Some would say "maybe you should see a doctor about SAD" but I'll cover my ears thinking "it's always something..."
But something switches come Christmas Eve. An overwhelming gratitude for my family and the people that love me, the people I love. It's like somebody lit up every Technicolor light in my soul and no comforter over my head will dim it.
It is then that I realize what the holidays are about. It's not hating the world for the want of shiny new objects. There's not much I can do about that. It's not shaking my fist at the lady that cut me off. That happens regardless of the season. It's about family. The gathering of spirit.
"Shall I play for you..."
This year I have a son who will be semi-aware of all of this, and to me there is almost nothing more beautiful. To see lights and love through his eyes. To rekindle the sparkle that was in mine and feel the incredible bigness in the room.
So to my readers, I wish you all the same. Joy, happiness, health, and above all love. Happy Holidays to you all.