December is finally here and for the first time in a long time I am not feeling the Christmas spirit. I remember a time when the mere thought of Christmas would excite me senseless. Seeing Christmas lights, Christmas shopping not to mention the free pass I gave myself during Christmas time to eat any and everything where all things I waited for impatiently throughout the year. Last year was the first time I spent away from my parents and siblings as I was back home in Zambia trying to get a VISA to come to the UK. For someone who spent every waking moment with their family especially during any holiday of note it was a huge shock for me, but I knew then and there that sadly it’s a part of life and the older and more ambitious I become I am unlikely to spend as many holidays with my family as I have become accustomed to.

The nostalgic memories I have from my childhood make me wonder if I will ever be able to have holidays that come as close to the ones of my past. Somehow the novelty of waking up on Christmas morning is not as exciting as it once seemed. I could blame it on growing up or moving away from my family, but I think the real reason is the realisation that there is a lot more to Christmas than I originally bothered to care about. It’s funny that once Christmas is over everything is back to normal. The lights go down and people just are not as friendly as they appeared. The temporary nature of the whole thing makes me weary to fully immense myself in the Christmas spirit that has seemingly gripped everyone once again this year.

This post may seem like it is being written by the Grinch herself, but in retrospect my feelings this year are unlikely to remain the same overtime. I am hopeful that something magical will happen somewhere somehow that will allow me to feel the way I used to feel about Christmas.