Alan Ilagan

Last night I had a terrible, horrible thought. It lasted but a moment, and then I forced it from my head. I wished, just for a second, that the holidays were over and out of the way, and that it was already January.

I don’t know why, since we haven’t even reached Thanksgiving yet, but at that moment something woke my inner-Grinch and I was actually wishing away all of December. It was a totally unexpected sentiment, since I usually love the holiday season. The parties, the gatherings, the festive trimming, the hustle and bustle, the generally-good moods of co-workers, the abundance of food, the cookies, and the chance to see friends and family – I’ve always been a sucker for all of it.

Granted, there have been times when the true spirit of the season gets forgotten amid the stress of gift-buying and party planning, but for the most part I’m a secret lover of Christmas – I just like to play the Scrooge/Grinch character because it suits my personality.

Even with such an affinity, I was startled to find myself genuinely, if momentarily, wishing the season away so soon. With most things in my life, it is the anticipation that I enjoy most. Christmas Eve will always trump Christmas Day.

For whatever reason, my heart is not in it yet.