Yesterday was the winter solstice, the shortest day of the year.  Last night was, therefore, the longest night of the year; a good night to pull out A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens and mull on things.

Earlier in the day, I had heard a couple at a local store saying “I hate Christmas,” and “I can’t wait for Christmas to be over.”  I could understand those feelings.  Christmas may be commercially successful for businesses seeking profit, such as Scrooge and Marley’s firm.  For men and women, it’s more complicated.  A season of disappointment and sadness for many.

Living in an “event-focused world” is disappointing.  I’m surprised some well-meaning despot hasn’t outlawed the “holiday season” at this point, what with all the hurt feelings and grief that surface at this time of year.

I don’t even have the heart to blog about it today.  It’s probably my diet of sugar cookies and ginger snaps that is bringing me down.

We will meet again here on Thursday and then Friday, it will all be over.  Unless, of course, we resolve to be more like the redeemed Ebenezer Scrooge:

“I will honor Christmas in my heart, and try to keep it all the year.  I will live in the Past, Present, and the Future.  The Spirits of all Three shall strive within me.  I will not shut out the lessons that they teach.”