My favorite part of the Holiday season is the tree and twinkle-lights. Every season, even when I was broke and living in a studio apartment, there has always been a tree with ornaments and twinkle-lights.
This year something is different, something inside of me has changed. That inner holiday spirit that starts bubbling up around the first of November, has been dimmer this year. Thanksgiving came and went, and there was no tree. The holiday music that should have been the soundtrack while cutting the turkey, and stuffing our faces, was absent. There were twinkle lights that we priced, but never got around to purchasing. For the first time in my almost 26 years, I have no desire to decorate a tree. There are no new ornaments this year. The dried-out holiday wreath that your grandmother bought us at Thanksgiving is still hanging over the fireplace.
A small part of my Holiday spirit took over my body on Wednesday, and I spent a solid 15 minutes decorating our fireplace and hanging stockings. I hung twinkle-lights in our window in a cumbersome fashion, only to make a point to passers-by that we aren't scrooges.
It looks festive, in a way that would normally not meet my Holiday spirit standards. I have no desire to be festive this year. I don't see the point.
It's Friday the 13th, and our Dr. appointment is on Monday the 16th. Your Father had a melt down yesterday. I'm so tired, I can barely muster sympathy for it anymore. We'll know more on Monday. We've been waiting for this since June. I'm not sure how I feel about things anymore.
I miss you, and love you.
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