12.26.12
On the day after Christmas, 1986, I wrote in my
first diary about how the day was palpably less fun and magical than Christmas had been. Presents were still sort of
exciting, but less so.
On December 27 I wrote of the further diminishing
returns.
Somehow over these years I’ve learned to
gracefully move from phase to phase, holiday to workaday and actually feel a
certain fond familiarity for the return to normal life. The glow of the
holidays still upon me, but accepting of what is.
I suppose we learn to adapt
because there is nothing else to be done. And we can even eventually turn that
adaptation from resignation into pleasure. That is one of those amazing things about being human, I guess. They call it "growing up," but I think it's a way to allow every day to have its own magic.
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