It was easier then I thought to shred those several dozen years of Christmas memories. Photos, cards, letters, promises… I caught myself smiling through the entire process. It was a strange feeling. So relieving. So many cards from so many different friends of the past. I thought for sure I would find a few that I would want to keep, but no. They are all gone now, and it feels good not to drag them through another year of the Christmas take down. I don’t ever want to see any of it anymore, actually. Not the decorations, or the ornaments, the lights. Nothing. They are packed tight and ready for a long, long wait. Maybe after I’m gone.
This year we received maybe 5 cards. Not even a quarter of the usual. I admit it made me sad. Made me think that possibly all of those cards, from all of those years, were just obligatory to my sent card. What a waste… Well, it wasn’t that way for me. It meant something. And it’s now a stark reminder of the realities of the real Christmas spirit, and what it means. I couldn’t gather the strength to send them, or do much this year, but I was so looking forward to them. More then I thought I was, apparently. But here I am, with thoughts of how quickly people move on when you are not the you they want you to be. When you remind them of the pain that they want to avoid. The pain that they can’t avoid with the thoughts of you. The pain that you yourself will never be able to avoid again.
I just don’t have that kind of Christmas spirit anymore, and I’m actually not that sad to see that side of it go. And this year proved why. It’s not real. At least not how I thought it was. And it’s just not me anymore. That’s probably a good thing. And they are not the them that I want them to be anymore either, I guess. So we both win in a way… or lose. I can’t tell anymore which is which because I’ve lost so much already.