Last Christmas

So what do I really have to say about Christmas?

So many amazing, beautiful and inspiring words have been crafted about the festive season, what could I possibly have to say on this day of days that could compare? What insightful and profound discovery have I made about the holiday seasons that have never been touched on by histories greatest wordsmiths?

A hair-dryer is a great way to quickly dry damp pajama pants.

That’s about it. Why they were damp is a matter between myself and the gods, but damn it, if that hair-dryer didn’t get them back on my torso within 15 minutes!

Truth be told, this was the first official Christmas since separating from the Artist Formerly Known As My Wife and our first on a shared time basis when it comes to our youngest, Tattoo.

Last Christmas found all involved locked in an unpleasant yuletide series of bad feeling and crossed words, all of which would have made for gripping reality television, but did not a very merry Christmas make.

This year was far more congenial, with love and good feelings across the board between former and myself and even with an appearance by my, somewhat estranged eldest non-stepson, Hair. It was comforting to witness how wild his thatch of clotted curls had become since seeing him last, and though his discomfort was apparent, it was somewhat leavened by my silent ponderings as to what household objects could be concealed in such a forest.

Mum and dad were present, of course, as I’m sure they will be for every Christmas until I die. Were I to be imprisoned in the darkest recesses of Azkaban, I am sure I would still wake Christmas morning to find both them both perched upon the edge of my bed, preparing the days festivities.

Was it a great Christmas? No, not really.

But it was most certainly nice, slightly bittersweet, but nice.

Did I blunder across any new festive insights with which I can share?

No, I didn’t.

But I did, perhaps take another step closer to that far off place, that place of calm and contentment, which seemed unreachable last year and the months that followed.

Perhaps Christmas has lost some of its innocence for me, laden down now as it is with the need to work so finely with time management and the juggling of so many emotions, my own and others.

But I do feel something shifting, another country forming as the old one becomes the past.

Is that profound? I would hope not.

But it is real and I’ll take that every time.



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