by Phyllis McCrossin
This is my last missive for 2024. My, how time flies.
For me, the holiday season is over. Some contend the season ends with the New Year, but I don’t do New Year’s Eve celebrations or make New Year’s resolutions. The turning of the calendar to another year doesn’t really do much for me.
If I want changes, then each day, each hour, each minute can be a new beginning. One can start over anytime one chooses; it doesn’t have to be New Year’s Eve or a New Year’s resolution, does it? How about we make Super Bowl resolutions?
I also don’t look back on the past year and hope for a better new year. Each year is filled with good and bad. Some years more horrific things happen than others, but all-in-all it kind of evens out.
The year has wound itself down. Thursday was our last day at our daughter’s house for 2024. She has a lovely two-bedroom apartment with a nice kitchen with an island, two full baths, a balcony and decent-sized living room.
But the Christmas tree and all the Christmas decorations were starting to make us all feel a little claustrophobic, so she and I decided the time was right for everything to come down and be packed away. King thought it was too soon, but she pointed out to him that she recalled how he was the one who took things down immediately after Christmas. I’m glad she was the one to point it out; he tends to think I’m exaggerating.
So while the boys were outside playing with friends King, our daughter and I took everything down, boxed it up and moved the boxes to the garage. The tree was pretty much dead anyway — it had a very definite yellow hue to it.
Later in the afternoon while King and our daughter took one of the grandsons for a riding lesson (karate lessons had been canceled) I sat with the other grandson – who was pouting because his friend had to go to a family function. I was trying to keep up a constant stream of chatter so he’d stop pouting and I asked him if he missed having the tree up and minded if the decorations were gone.
He said he liked the tree but he liked having more room in the house better. I rather like that pragmatism because quite frankly, while I agree with him, I also have to face my melancholy over the holiday season being over.
Quite frankly, I’m not certain if I miss it or if I’m relieved. The time between Thanksgiving and Christmas always seems to be a blur. Though the boys’ school holiday program seems like it was years ago, it was, in fact, less than a month ago.
That’s a long lead-up to what is going on today.
Nothing.
The boys are heading to their father, our daughter is going to stay with a friend and King and I are back at Lake Jennings Campground. We just got back from the grocery store – I shop, King waits in the truck. I am not really certain why he goes with me, other than perhaps he is bored.
‘During the summer he keeps himself busy with “stuff” at Kal-Haven Outpost – much to the consternation of the owners, who think he works far more than the work for rent agreement. Perhaps he does, but it’s his choice to stay busy. And I can assure them he is painfully bored right now.
But there is enjoyment in doing nothing as well. I read, find new projects (I just crocheted a bag I’ll never use) and write. King does his scratch-off tickets, watches sports and old westerns and keeps track of his fantasy football picks. It doesn’t sound exciting, but life doesn’t always have to be full of excitement to be full of contentment.
In fact – it took me a while to figure this one out – one does not always have to be “doing” to enjoy life. Sometimes just “being” is enough.
May you always find contentment in whatever you do.
