I cannot express the relief that comes with saying "Christmas is over." When I say over, I mean
over. Yes the decorations are still about, but there are no remnants of gifts, not a single shred of wrapping paper or a solitary stray ribbon. The local radio stations have returned to their usual annoying, cynical play lists. Stores have stopped sending their holiday greetings after your purchase, nor do they express their holiday return policies. The faint jingling of salvation army bells can no longer be heard from outside the post office. And the fake smiles and canned laughter can be shoved in the closet for your extended family to unknowingly accept in the new year.

My family is exhausting. I've lost some weight.

Over the past few days I have been completely foolish and unfair unto myself. But I must leave this notion that I'm deserted behind me, so that I can step into the new year, thinking only of the beauty that must surely lie ahead.


Last night I drove through the winter fog listening to some song about the delicate nature of love. Headlights would appear like shooting stars, fading inches behind me. My world was being swallowed whole. For the first time in my entire life, I felt as though I might disappear.