There is still leftover turkey in my refrigerator, but everyone has already embraced Christmas. My mom has had our tree up since the weekend before Thanksgiving, and its arrival was punctuated with the sudden appearance of eggnog and, of course, the melancholy croons of several icons that filtered in to our air vents via a Christmas playlist identical to that of every American department store.
But I don’t mean to be a cynic. I love the holidays, and the intangible spirit that comes with it. I have been putting that eggnog in my coffee for the past week, and I release the same awed sigh upon seeing Christmas lights as would any holiday fanatic. I even have my Christmas break all planned out: I get to visit my family in Russia for the first time. And while my stomach shrivels in to a useless prune of an organ each time I think about the bazillion hour flight, I know that’s not what’s keeping me from embracing the holidays.
It’s this: it should not be that time yet. The back-to-school stress, the cross country season, driving school–all of it’s gone. And for the life of me, I can’t remember how.
But now the Christmas bells are ringing, and the jubilant holiday cheers are muted by my high school’s grumbles, “‘Tis the season to take exams…fa la la la la la la la la.'” (Snow day, anyone?). At least the new change will bring Creative Writing II in place of Financial Literacy, but the rest of my schedule will be stone. My routine won’t falter: I will set my alarm for 5:15 and wake up at 6; I will spend third and fourth bell waiting for lunch; I will vow to complete my homework as soon as I get home then start it at six.
And soon the snowflakes will stop, and I will be nostalgic for Christmas, for the deep-in-your-bones winter chill, for the season that came too soon.