So, now at New Years Eve, Christmas is over once again.
I used to like Christmas. I used to eagerly await the decorations, the lights, the stockings, the presents and fervently wish for snow where the green Christmas is the norm. But now it seems that Christmas just another day, perhaps another family gathering at the most.
I have memories of decorating the Christmas tree a few weeks before Christmas – hauling that increasingly ancient fake tree with permanent tinsel, putting it together and than decorating haphazardly with blinking and non-blinking lights, actual decorations and ugly childhood decorations. I have even fonder memories of sitting in my grandparents’ living room staring at the Christmas tree aglow, mesmerized. (Although I had a phase when I didn’t like any blinking lights and my dad managed to get the star to stop blinking for me).
But it’s all over now.
We don’t personally have a tree or anything even though I wanted one for years.
None of my grandmothers’ places (one for 24th and 25th) had holiday decor of any kind. On Christmas day, I also got to listen to my cousin’s list of grievance (well, just one grievance,, really, repeatedly)
The magic has gone. That’s for sure. I no longer hear the bells ring. I no longer am fascinated by the lights.
It’s just another day.
It wouldn’t surprise me if I just became another day – my family ties are not the strongest and the likelihood of me gaining a close friend ore something is low. For my mom’s side of the family at least, it’s like they might as well not exist.
I still want a damn Christmas Tree. I want to put purple lights on it and decorate it with my horsy ornaments and such.
