It’s the season for merriment. Despite what most adults say about Christmas being for kids, I still feel some joy and delight when the holiday seasons arrive, well at least until now.
The 25th has come and gone and the what’s mostly been on my mind is not the festivities of the season but the anxiety of separation and the expectations of a totally different and remote life far from my loved ones (that is bound to last at least for 42 days).
Don’t get me wrong. I try. I try really hard in fact. Seeing my son open his gifts and almost jump after seeing his new toys takes me way back to those times when I feel nothing but love and joy. I even tried watching a Walking Dead marathon to keep me preoccupied, but nothing seems to work (or at least last).
I know I’m supposed to be all giddy and gleeful this season but every time I become idle, I can’t stop worrying. I’ve had plenty of plans to meet up with cousins, friends, former colleagues, and family but with all the things that had to be done – the panicking, the planning, the packing – none of those plans materialized (adding more frenzy and acids to worry about).
I hope I could fast forward to February 8.