Hazy Reflections and Vague Strategies
As 2022 builds up to its festive finalé, I can't help but feel a bit wrung out. As descendants of WASPs (White Anglo-Saxon Protestants), my family is one that loves at least three different Christmas celebrations, all bedecked with the figurative bells and holly. Historically I have been known to jump into the ceremony and excitement of the season wholeheartedly, with presents at least planned if not bought and wrapped, a December playlist on repeat, and the luscious comfort of being around loved ones top priority in a period that celebrates togetherness and family. This year, my despondency in palpable. Barring the nightcap and gown, I have taken on a definite Scroogey disposition, bah-humbugging my way through carols-by-candlelight and family dinners, if not fabricating a false sense of holiday cheer that hardly matches up to the real thing. Maybe it is because I am not actually on holiday and instead still amidst the hustle and grind, or maybe I am simply feeling the effects
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