I loved this melancholy post by my friend Dr. Write. After reading it I've been thinking about a certain brand of the melancholy to which I am susceptible--Holiday Melancholy.
A long, long, LONG time ago the Coach told me Christmas always makes him cry. I was surprised by this remark because I knew he likes Christmas. He likes Christmas so much he left our outdoor Christmas lights on for years. They were blue. And when you turned them on in July, you could see what you were doing when you played night games with the neighborhood kids.
(Which reminds me. One summer night when our Christmas lights were on, a group of BYU students stopped by our house and sang Christmas carols. Score!)
Anyway, I get what he means now. In my case it's a sweet melancholy. I love Christmas but I'm always aware of the ghosts of Christmas pasts. And while I am happy they return for a seasonal encore, they make me a little sad, too, you know?
I'm having one of those moments right now. I'm sitting at my desk, pretending to write, while listening to an old SING ALONG WITH MITCH album we found in my parents' storage unit this summer. This record was one of the soundtracks of my little girl girlhood. And yes. It makes me cry a little.
In a good way.