The roads are slick, I can hear the carcasses of fallen raindrops sloshing under a constant procession of car tires. Their high beams unmask the invisible sheet of drizzle that assaults my face, even as it’s turned down. The air is unforgiving, it unleashes its vengeance on the inadequate clothes that cover me. And not in a Baby, It’s Cold Outside kind of way. It’s been a Blue Christmas day.
In every way, it was my favorite kind of day. An unencumbered Saturday, an accommodating parade of showers, a flurry of Christmas lights. And yet, an unease hung in the air like a pestering fog. No matter what I did, it dampened the room with its melancholy. And so, there’s only one thing you can do when you’re blue. You order Chinese take out, you cry to sad songs, you drown your sorrows in sappy Christmas movies.
Too often we sanction ourselves for not enjoying what we think we should. We chide ourselves for not choosing happiness. But sometimes your circumstances have chosen you. And you truly will spoil it if you carry on with your picnic as the rain falls down. So much of life is rolling through the punches, even the ones you don’t see, even the ones you barely feel. You wouldn’t bring a gun to a baby shower, nor a pacifier to a showdown. Sometimes it’s not about having the right attitude or finding the positives, sometimes it’s arming yourself properly for what life has prepared.