So long.

Christmas.  Goodbye, old friend.  I'll harken your return upon the morrow.

When a snow flake falls, I rush outside to catch it's damp beauty on my tongue.  I marvel at the glistening white that turns, a world of sodden rush, to quiet beauty.  I fill myself on the joy that comes from icy blasts of air and red cheeks, hands warmed around hot mugs of chocolate.  For a brief moment everything halts, slowly drops of lace fall, turning a muddy street to tufts of brilliant powder.  Trees hang, weighted, like old men who have said goodbye to many a friend.  Children watch, eagerly waiting the moment the flakes have piled themselves just high enough to whisk a sled to a pile of laughter.  So very, very brief is this moment.

Then out, you find yourself, gingerly placing your foot in the untouched snow.  Laughing as snowballs fly in wild abandon.  The pristine world, once more fills with the life and vibrancy of sound.  Before you fully felt your joy, the snow plows come, chasing away the wild fantasy of life that halted work and productivity.  Dogs must be released and tire tracks replace the halting prints of wonder.  Beauty quickly turns to ugly black ice banks and slippery mud sink feet in it's mire.  Just like that the magic fades.

The week after Christmas feels much like the week after a brilliant snow fall.  The sadness as the beauty slips away and the desperate demands of life sink you back to startling reality.  Gone are the bells and calls of cheer.  The wild, desperate shopping and baking that fills your home with the warmth of scent.  The lights and gleaming decor, replaced in their efficient boxes.  Trees that were picked with such care and wonder, tossed to the street.

Goodbye, goodbye.  

Sweet melancholy fills my heart and I whisper a heartfelt farewell.  I'll stay quiet this week.  I'll soak in the lingering bits of holiday.  I'll have just one more cup of cocoa with mounds of whipped cream.  I'll eat just one more cookie.  Then I'll tuck away all of the joy and memory from this beautiful year and hide it away to show one day to gleaming faces around a lighted tree.

Upon a jingle and a shout of glee, I'll whisper goodbye.

Just one more year and all will change.  We'll all be older.  We'll all be, just a little different.  Never again will this Christmas happen.  It was fleeting.  In that was the magic.

Goodbye.