Everything is perfect in December. Things sort of acquire the fuzzy sweetness of nostalgia. Like sepia photographs, in retrospect everything’s warm and the angles are softer. Everything except perhaps ex-boyfriends and ex-girl friends. Them, especially fresh ones have a rotten way of giving a rather bitter aftertaste to the sweetness of December. Anyways this post isn’t about bitterness or strife. It’s about December. The end of the year.
When nice memories become nicer and not-so-nice memories become less not-so-nice. You try and catch up with life. We meet up with old friends. You shift down a couple of gears and prefer to just cruise. Most of us are back at home, tucking in everything edible in sight, especially what goes down our gullet with considerable ease and relish. We relax our grip in our eternal arm-wrestling match against the bulge. Soft indulgent paunches show for our slackening. Smiles get wider. Hugs get warmer. Deadlines get a little less deadlier. For that one week between Christmas and New Year, it’s like the world takes one big gigantinormous collective sigh – a deep, deep breath of respite from the rat-eat-dog race we all know.
Just for one week. I hope you enjoyed yours. Happy new year, everyone.