Holiday Magic
...or perhaps lack thereof?
There was a time when the holidays would bring an ecstatic giddiness to me. Staring for hours at the tree would bring peace, people gathering in my home for a night's festivities would bring joy. The play of the children would amuse, the antics of the cats and dogs would brighten. The love of a man would warm my soul.
Those days, at least as far as I can tell, are past. This morning found me waking up, wishing that I could feel the magical thrill of opening my eyes on christmas morning. Nothing. I sit alone, staring at the tree, wondering if perhaps all of my joyful days are behind me now. That's the cynical, jaded part of me - the part that says that I wasted all of my happiness on times long past. The part of me that sees what and where I am now and laughs rudely because the ladder to climb out of the pit I've dug for myself is so tall - I can barely see where it leads, and in many cases, the shadows hide the rungs.
But there, in the very core of my soul, the small child waits, hopeful and eager. One day I will find that magic again. One day there will be Christmas again.
And to all of those who still believe - in the magic of the yuletide, the magic of childhood, the magic of friendships that never go away, or just in the magic of your own heart, I wish you a fond happy holiday.
There was a time when the holidays would bring an ecstatic giddiness to me. Staring for hours at the tree would bring peace, people gathering in my home for a night's festivities would bring joy. The play of the children would amuse, the antics of the cats and dogs would brighten. The love of a man would warm my soul.
Those days, at least as far as I can tell, are past. This morning found me waking up, wishing that I could feel the magical thrill of opening my eyes on christmas morning. Nothing. I sit alone, staring at the tree, wondering if perhaps all of my joyful days are behind me now. That's the cynical, jaded part of me - the part that says that I wasted all of my happiness on times long past. The part of me that sees what and where I am now and laughs rudely because the ladder to climb out of the pit I've dug for myself is so tall - I can barely see where it leads, and in many cases, the shadows hide the rungs.
But there, in the very core of my soul, the small child waits, hopeful and eager. One day I will find that magic again. One day there will be Christmas again.
And to all of those who still believe - in the magic of the yuletide, the magic of childhood, the magic of friendships that never go away, or just in the magic of your own heart, I wish you a fond happy holiday.