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Ah, the Christmas/New Years syndrome—the time when a lot (myself included) feel as though we've inadvertently stepped through Alice’s looking glass; Christmas filled with looking back and New Years filled with looking forward. With the timing of these polar opposites a mere week from each other, is it any wonder we sometimes feel as though we're at odds with ourselves?
I’ve always loved Christmas and disliked New Years for the same reason: memories. I have very fond memories of Christmas. Of the lights and the tree and the family togetherness. Of my dad’s potato dressing, and dumping water on the middle sister, at the urging of my eldest, to get her out of bed before noon. Of the spontaneous dances that broke out in the kitchen and the spontaneous singing that broke out in the living room. That my sisters are eleven and ten years older than me might have a lot to do with why those memories are so very precious. By the same token, I have no fond memories of New Years. Not a one. The family would be long gone by then, the best-laid plans fallen through, as always; New Years Day dinner the only redeeming feature of yet another buildup turned disappointment. All the wishful thinking in the world will not change one's life. Only we can do that. And the proof? Out of the bazillions of resolutions made aloud on January 1st, how many will actually come to fruition? (Here’s a hint: most, if not all, will fall through in the first month.) If you want to be a better person, loose weight, go back to school and earn that degree you‘ve wanted, laugh more or give of yourself more, then go for it, that‘s what I say; don’t wait for a special occasion.
As for me, I’ll have a nice glass of white wine and go to bed by ten. It is, after all, just another day.