The Day After

It's such a weird period, this time of the year.

Before Christmas, it always starts way too early. One almost becomes numb by the time the actual holiday rolls around, because we grow so used to all seasonal items, decoration, lights. But then just like that, we don't want the holidays to be over, because overall it's such a nice few days of winding down. Regardless of the year before, or the preparations and the celebrations themselves, one can simply bundle up, cozy, mostly undisturbed. Even if it all just lowkey and we don't appreciate it in the moment. Before we know it, Christmas Eve is over, but there's still two more days that are just different: so much of the moving about happens here, visiting whoever is deemed important enough, and accepting visitors as well, lots of food, lots of sweets, lots of getting tired.

Then there's those few "off" days in-between, that nobody really knows how to spend. Going back to the regular routines doesn't apply, doesn't feel right, even though they are just regular days. Slowly, unnoticed, building up to New Year's Eve, changing some decoration, switching to different food, maybe doing some additional shopping... And on the day, it all happens again, all condensed into a few hours. Getting ready and then going out if we have an invitation, or again just cozying up in front of the TV with some favourites or just random picks. Perhaps getting sleepy due to not being used to being awake so late. But the adrenaline kicks in as midnight approaches and rolls around, bottles popping, glasses clinking in the relative darkness of the dim holiday lights or the screen. And then - perhaps just as quickly, adrenaline seeps away, the realisation hits that we've been half asleep for hours, and can't wait to climb in bed.

The first day of the new year always starts slowly. Getting up a lot later is disorienting, not having anything to do is weird - not wanting to do anything, maybe not even having anyone around, just the same. Waiting for the world to wake up, if we weren't the last to open our eyes, that is. We realise: that was it, it's all over. No more specials on TV or online or in games, only the leftovers to clean up. Whether that's dishes and glasses and bottles, or the glamour of the holidays that are suddenly left without much meaning: they're only chores to deal with. Reality is switched back on. The illusion of cheer, of care, of peace, of caring - all of it is over, right?

It's only replaced by a pang of appreciation for those dull, gloomy, quiet in-between days, that wasn't there in the moment. When perhaps the thoughts on our mind is a yearning to return to normalcy, because so much time, special time at that, all spent together with all the family and friends, or lack thereof in other cases, was getting on our nerves, because it can easily be just a tad too much. When perhaps we only had daydreams of being somewhere else, celebrating somewhere else, doing things that would be more meaningful, with people who might be more significant but couldn't be around for whatever reason. When we couldn't wait for the whole thing to be over, but we didn't want it all to be over, because we never got to do what we wanted, and getting back to the dreary regular everydays would only be worse.

And suddenly it's a yearning for those after-days... for what they could have meant at one point in life, but what they never really did. Starting up again, on some fresh energy and rest. Seeing the usual people again, going to the usual places again, a sense of lowkey safety and belonging, but with a breeze of freshness that the new year brings. Getting out and away from the latent suffocating enclosure of the holidays, and back to something more comfortable...

if only.