Meanwhile, the following morning

I slip into a holiday sad on Chritmas. Generally, it's only for a moment, an hour or so. It’s customary, the uszh, S.O.P. and shit. Why?

The weight of history – my own scarred familial experiences on this allegedly happiest day of the year. That and expectations.

I keep my plans small…antisocial even. In doing this, I’m not held responsible for making someone else’s day the most memorable, happy of all. I don’t want the burden of bringing joy, wonder and salubrity to a gathering. Keeping myself buoyed is enough of a daunting, motherfucking task.

To not fall into a sinkhole of sad takes prep and work. I’ve played around with an assortment of schemes since establishing holiday independence. I love the custom I’ve settled into – my brekkies with Jen and Oni, a Chinese food dinner and movie – but maybe it’s time to introduce new elements.

Yesterday was warm so, with the sun shining high, Ten and I took a short walk on Nantasket. We saw other, actual humans out there too and, no, they didn’t demand that we sparkle and fizz up their holiday. Huh. Cool.

I had an idea yesterday – how about going to Iceland, to my silica nirvana for a couple days? Ten’s never been there and, frankly, I can’t think of a more perfect, peaceful, zentastic way to spend this pressurized, overhyped day.