Christmas = over, now the next bit!

Well, that’s a relief.

Well, it isn’t and it is. I always regret that Christmas isn’t the same sparkly, wide-eyed source of wonder that it was when I was a kid. I’m always surprised that  I looked forward to the event more than I enjoyed the event itself; and I consistently underestimate the stress I feel over les arrangements, but that’s not a problem. This year scored firsts in a number of departments; first Christmas at home (ironic), first Christmas catered for, R’s first cognizant Christmas, and how much we all enjoyed that particular aspect. It was wonderful to welcome Granny J and Grandpa K into the house – they were wonderful and considerate guests and I shall be sorry to see them go.

Christmas is just such a liminal time; I’m constantly reminded of The Magician’s Nephew – Jadis, the Evil Queen, making sure it was always Winter and never Christmas – the Christian overtones notwithstanding, we have to acknowledge that Christmas is, well, about Christ, no matter how hijacked the Yule celebration has been in fact. But Christmas is the La Grange point between anticipation and the long slog of January and February; once over, there’s not much to look forward to except a 5 week month and the statistical likelihood of more suicides than you can shake a stick at. Depression on toast, anyone?

It simply strikes me that there will be a lot of people, particularly this year, who had pushed their worries and woes, financial or otherwise, to the back of their minds until Christmas came and went, and now it has. What now for them? What for those who never even had a Christmas? I sat about eating and making merry, ensuring that the outside stayed there and no hint of it came in. Perhaps it would behoove me next year to consider that there are people out there who could use my help, care and consideration, and that I should bloody well go out there and spread it about a bit. It can’t hurt.