The tree is still up, but the lights are turned off. The scant other holiday decorations are not so much jolly as they are sad. An empty childhood Advent Calendar, abandoned and forgotten, stands rolled up in a dusty corner. Stockings were hung and filled, but just as cavalierly removed from the mantle.
Boxes and wrapping paper were either broken down and stored in the garage, or bagged up and wait at the curb for pickup. Gifts are put away, already absorbed into the day-to-day monotony.
Grandparents were called, or they called. Thanks passed around for presents received, clichés uttered over regrets for not making the trek to visit over the holidays… they almost sounded sincere.
Disposable aluminum pans and reusable plastic bins filled with an abundance of holiday food meant to be reheated ad nauseam during the coming week overwhelm premium refrigerator space. Silent thanks given that the menu won’t be repeated for another 12 months.
Except for whole family being together, a feat becoming more and more difficult to achieve, the day felt like little more than a routine weekend day – lazy and uneventful.
It’s not the commercialization of Christmas that’s the problem, it’s the numbness of the season that has taken the joy out of it.
Maybe it’s just the numbness of everything that has taken the joy out of everything. I really need to find my Happy again.