Aftermath

The crumpled wrapping paper is stuffed in the overflowing trash can. The cookies and treats tempt but weakly on the counter. We have feasted.

The decorations and lights suddenly take on a gaudyness we never noticed last week.

The wind carries a breath of fresh winter air. Christmas, that marker of the deepest and highest pinnacle of the season has passed. As much as we attempt to satisfy ourselves with the prospect of New Years, we are bluffing. It will not do. 

No holiday charms and woos quite like Christ's Mass, literally the holiest day of the year for the Christian, and the happiest day for children. 

The magical glow which surrounds it has been exploited, derided, denied, but not yet obliterated. 

I've heard a hundred sermons trying to get me to understand that the birth of Jesus was a gutsy, earthy, unappealing affair that should not evoke glitter, hoopla or any such merriment. No matter. I'm a sucker for the Disneyland experience. Until further notice, I'll be celebrating with gusto and then going back to business as usual til next year.

For now I'm in the post blues. 

But no matter. I've been here lots of times. Besides, the Christmas stuff is all on sale. I'll gear up for next year.