It doesn’t matter what I’ve done this year, but nothing has put me in the mood for Christmas. Not Christmas music, not decorating, not buying new decorations, not buying gifts for people I love, not reading Christmas stories. Nothing. Nothing feels like Christmas. It feels like any other month of the year.
Yet, the calendar on my wall tells me otherwise, nagging me that Christmas is only 22 days away. To me that is crazy. How can it be Christmas already?
I remember when I was little bursting with anticipation the moment I would flip the page of my kitten calendar to December. I would pull out my VHS versions of Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer and a Charlie Brown Christmas, wishing and yearning for Santa to come down my chimney and put all the presents I want under the tree.
I loved watching my mother string the lights up on the Christmas tree, and I always loved turning all the lights out in my living room to sit and stare. Watching all those colored lights twinkle on the tree made this time of year feel enchanted. It made my small green eyes gleam with excitement. Everything about Christmas felt enchanted. It made me believe that the world could be magical.
I don’t know what has caused my Christmas funk. Maybe, it’s because I am older. Maybe it’s because my grandmother is gone. Maybe it’s because I am not home anymore. Or maybe this year has been so exhausting that I can’t force myself to really put myself in the Christmas spirit.
As I was listening to the radio on my drive home yesterday, the radio man said lots of people weren’t feeling it this year. At least I am not the only. The radio guy said watching Christmas movies was the solve-all answer to people’s lack of Christmas joy.
Given, I have yet to try his advice and prescription to remedy my spirit or lack thereof. It just doesn’t feel real. In my heart I know I want it to be real and magical. I wish I could have the heart of a child again where I all did was wish, want, and believe.