It’s that time

Christmas 2008 is a strange time to be alive. This year my brother and I are scheduled to spend it with my mom, which means we'll sit together and have a non-Christmasy breakfast before watching a slightly uninteresting movie during which two out of the three of us will struggle to disguise our discontent in faked digestive difficulty.

I once thought Christmas was my favorite holiday, but like many things in my life, HWMNBN ruined it with some soul-crushing comment or act (I can't remember which) and now the only celebration I tend to look forward to is the one where I get to ring in the New Year and make resolutions I know I won't keep.

Who knows, maybe 2009 will be different. Let's hope so, at least.

One thing I will always appreciate, however,  is my father's Christmas spirit. It's calmed down over the years, but I can always count on lights twinkling around our garage the day after Thanksgiving and a tree to put my presents under. Even through the ever-present fog of cynicism, that tiny ounce of Christmas burns brightly year after year, and it continues to sustain me.