Christmas came early when we were let out of work even more quickly than announced this morning. I was out by three o’clock and home wrapping the last of our gifts. This was good and I was in a half-way decent mood. Then Stef came home and we were faced with the trek over to my parents’ house. It’s not a long journey or a particularly hard one. I just hate traveling anywhere nowadays. I hate driving. I hate being in a car stuck behind morons who can’t drive. Once we got there, all would be better. That’s what I had to tell myself.
And it was better. I love spending time with my family. Mom, Dad, Grandma, and John were there, as were my Aunt Debbie, Uncle Wayne, and all of their kids. It’s become a Christmas Eve tradition for them to come over and exchange gifts and eat pizza and this year was no different. I love being around the kids. They’re who this whole holiday is for anyway.
And that thought is invariably what saddens me during the holidays. Holidays, and this one in particular, seem to me to be about the young, about youth and magic. I’ve lost what youth and magic I had in my body and I just feel old and normal. The whole thing crept up on me this year. I’ve been so busy with school and work that I hadn’t even noticed how close we were to Christmas until it was already upon us. And the day after Christmas I’ll be right back to work on my schoolwork as I try to prepare for the next residency at the beginning of January.
I always feel this way on Christmas Eve lately. Tomorrow morning I’ll feel better and things will go well. For now, it’s time to go to bed. It’s time to get some rest so I can enjoy what’s ahead of me.