Closure

You might say that I have a difficult time saying goodbye. I’m awkward ending phone calls, terrible at airports, and when my little brother left on a two-year mission, I simply clapped him on the back and said, “Well hey, let us know how it all turns out.”

So you can imagine how torn I am to type the following phrase:

Goodbye, Christmas.

Today, I dismembered my tree, feeling much like the Grinch caught by Cindy Lou Who, tearing to shreds the very essence of Christmas cheer.

Each ornament, wrapped in tissue and tucked in for its own hibernation, broke a little piece of my heart. After all, what have they ever done to me, aside from sprinkling tidings of great joy throughout my living room?

I mean no offense to January through October. You serve us well. I even hear that some enjoy the warm months, basking in the trivial festivities of, like, the 4th of July.

But to December 25th and its surrounding advent, I pledge: I will wait for you. Until the Gods of holiday cheer bring you back to me, I will anticipate our reunion, when you will once more wrap me in the warmth of mistletoe and holly.

I will politely celebrate the impending holidays:dye an egg in April, light a sparkler for July, even paint my face come October. But rest assured, dear Christmas, that my heart is yours alone.

So long, my darling friend. I’ll see you in November.