This purgatorial place between Christmas and New Year’s Day used to be a space of joy, when I was a kid and on vacation, when I was in college and on break, when there was magic on the eves of both those bookends. Now we have to find magic in different ways – no, we have to make magic happen, because life doesn’t just hand you anything when you’re no longer a kid. Growing up is the sad realization of this, and it happens over and over. Some people try to recapture it, to prolong their childhood – adults still playing at life, afraid or unable or simply refusing to mature. Some people give in to it early, then learn later to find the play and the fun again. Some are just trying to get through the damn day.
I’m not sure where I’m falling these days, but I’m somewhere in the middle of it all, like most of us. Trying to be better than the day before, trying to be ok with when I’m not.
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