I'm used to Christmas looking like this
Photo by Jussi Syrjälä
White, and shiny, and pretty and sparkly. Pure. Innocent.
There's not a bit of snow outside today. I've eaten myself chubby, gotten myself into a chocolate-coma, and had a bottle-and-a-half of red, and still it doesn't feel like Xmas.
I even watched my prettiest, loveliest niece open up a pile of prezzies (jealous, who me? No!... well, just a bit) and still.
There's no snow.
It was white @ home. We had snow, 20 cms of it. But I didn't feel like Christmas at home, either.
It's probably a growing up-thing. Things are bound to change when you age. Innocence fades, routines take over, playing with sand sorta grows old.
And so do you. You grow old, and Christmas loses it's charm.
It can't be just because of the snow.
Could it be stress? Lack of presents? Lack of charm? Glamour?
I miss the way Christmas used to be when I was four.
I'd wake up at the crack of dawn, and wait for everyone else to get up, just watching the tree and the lights outside, the slowly fading night. And then there'd be porridge, and cartoons on telly, and The Declaration of Official Christmas Peace, and then the wait would begin.
First I'd wait for the sauna to warm up, and then I'd wait for the food to be ready, and then I'd wait for Santa. And everything seemed to take FOREVER, and that was somehow the best bit: the wait, and the feel of time stretching, and bending, and growing eternal.
Time doesn't stretch anymore. I think that's basically what's wrong with growing up.
Time doesn't bend. It just ticks by. Steadily.
Tomorrow, I'm gonna see if I can make it bend again <3