No Christmas spirit this year

I've battled wintertime depression ever since I became an adult; not clinical, suicidal depression, just a vague feeling of sadness. And it always seems to peak around Christmas.

In the past, I have made efforts to mask the feeling. After all, I have grandchildren. There were years when I'd tell Cliff I didn't want to bother with a tree, and he'd talk me into putting it up "just for the grandkids".

This year we haven't even discussed it. I think the straw that broke the camel's back was the cheap-o fake tree we bought last year at Hobby Lobby. When Christmas was over, I hauled the whole thing upstairs still decorated and set it back in a corner. It was the first-ever phony Christmas tree I've had, and I hate it. Besides, one of the few things I liked about Christmas was decorating the tree, or watching kids do it. If the tree stays decorated from one year to the next, what's the point?

Because Cliff and I watch our weight now, and neither of us withstand temptation well, I haven't gotten into the baking frenzy (brown sugar fudge, Mother's fruitcake, sugar cookies) that used to lift my spirits a bit and bring back happy memories of childhood.

I haven't put a single candle in a window, nor bought one gift for anyone. I've told the grandchildren they're getting cash, and not all that much of that.

I'm not sending cards. I'm not writing a Christmas letter, although I should, since this past year was a momentous one... Cliff having had a quad-heart bypass in April. I have every reason in the world to be thankful, and I ought to be glad for an excuse to tell people about his remarkable recovery.

I haven't watched my favorite movie, "It's A Wonderful Life" at all. (Maybe I should; it might help.)

It was easier to get in the spirit when the children, and then the grandchildren, were babies: it takes so little to satisfy small children. Once they get past kindergarten age, though, kids become harder to please. Everything they want is expensive, and if you deviate at all from their list of space-age toys, they don't like what you buy for them. Let's not even talk about trying to buy clothes for them.

So, I've dropped out. I'm not playing any more.

I'm not mad at Jesus. I'm not mad at anybody.

It just isn't fun any more. So there's no Christmas at my house this year.