Post-Holiday Depression

THERE IS NOTHING quite like those first few days after a major holiday, such as Christmas, to make a person feel blah. The excitement and expectation has dissipated; the wrapping paper, once covering beautifully-wrapped boxes, is now scrunched into balls and stuffed into bags; a stark reminder of easy come, easy go. Bows and ribbons decorate the carpet, pieces of tape find their way on the most unusual objects.

No one wants any more turkey; just the thought of another turkey sandwich makes one queasy. Sure, there is more than food to Christmas. There are the gifts. The shirt boxes can be folded and used again next year; the HUGE box from the Blue-Ray player is stored in the garage until the next recycling day; the even BIGGER BOX from my daughter's drawing table is also in the garage. What? you say---What about the birth of Jesus Christ? Isn't that what Christmas is all about? See the last paragraph.

Trudging through snow isn't one of my favourite hobbies, and I had to dress as if I was going to the North Pole just to take out the leftover boxes and other trash. Actually I detest Winter. Hate it. All the snow, boots, gloves, scarves, hats, etc. Snow on the carpet, mixed with sunflower seeds that fell from the bird feeder, and pieces of rock salt that stick to your boots, then come off on the runners. All that salt thrown outside to melt the ice and snow, and then half of it comes back inside. You step on it with stockinged feet--OUCH!!!---and that reminds you of days in the past when your daughters were small . . .

when you stepped on that elusive Barbie shoe in the middle of the night. Painful, very painful. Anyone who has daughters who had Barbie dolls knows this particular phenomenon. It is peculiar only to parents of daughters who collect multiple Barbies, then have to buy all the shoes, which usually happen to be high heels. There is always that one shoe that gets away from the collection, that one shoe that the daughter is always looking for. "Mommy?!?!? Have you seen a light blue Barbie shoe?" "Yes, darling, it lanced me last night. Here it is," wherewith you deposit the minute but deadly weapon in her little outstretched hand. "Oh, thank you, Mommy!" Her beaming smile seems to blot out the pain in your instep.

The only redeeming feature of Winter, to my estimation, is watching the bright red Cardinals feeding at the bird feeder, their redness such a beautiful contrast to the whiteness of the snow. I love feeding the animals, even the thieving squirrels, who rely on me for their food. The raccoons and opossums also enjoy a little tidbit, but they refuse to eat Brussels sprouts. Can't understand why, I love them . . . .

Only a few days and we will be in the New Year, 2010. And the days are already getting longer, heading toward that lovely time of Spring, then Summer, then Autumn, then Winter again . . .

OH, lest I forget . . . Constantine created Christmas as a mid-winter festival, as much for the Christians as against the Jews . . . my own personal belief is that Jesus Christ was born in the Spring as He died in the Spring, and December 25th is NOT His birthday. We shouldn't mix pagan festivals with the birth of The Messiah and Our Saviour. We love to give and receive gifts, therefore we should enjoy Christmas for that and nothing else, and perhaps should change the name to "Winter Fesitval" and save "Christmas" for April, and make it a truly spiritual holiday, no gift-giving, no big turkey dinners. Chanukkah is so much more a real thing to celebrate, also Passover, which is commanded of the Jews to celebrate forever. So there---at God's command, Passover has to be remembered forever.

And with remembering that, perhaps I will shake myself out of these Winter blues and think about the Spring.