I'm glad the holidays are over. I used to look so forward to them when I was a child. On some level, i still do; it's the part of me that still believes every day is going to be blue skied and sunny, the part of me that is certain that people would never be mean to me. I'm always wrong about those things, and I'm wrong about the holidays, too. I always think I'm going to make THIS particular Christmas the BEST Christmas ever, and that I'll wake up Christmas morning with that same feeling of excitement and anticipation that I had when I was little. I never do.
I know what it is. I'm still waiting for Santa.
I'm waiting for something wonderful to be given to me, or done for me, that only something or someone magical could create. I really don't mean a gift. I mean a FEELING, an EXPERIENCE. An EMOTION. One that you only feel on a day like Christmas. Somehow, it never quite happens. The one thing I want is the one thing I don't get. There's always that post-Christmas letdown that inevitably comes. For me, the adrenaline rush of Christmas morning is more ominous than joyful, because I know what I'll feel afterwards...
...like Santa didn't come.
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