No Wonder There’s No Wonder

It’s no wonder there’s no wonder left in our normal lives today.

This may seem silly to you, but I have been very irked recently (if by “recently” I mean, oh, the last 5 years…) about something that in the scheme of things may seem rather trivial. But those 5 years ago, I was deep in the struggling-for-identity stages of the teenage years, and to add to the already tumultuous emotions stirring around inside was the fact that the holiday season, which once held such delight, now felt dead. Nothing special, no matter how much I wanted it to be, no matter how hard I cried into my pillow on December 24th because I’d just seen It’s A Wonderful Life and felt nothing. And it hurt. I was sure that it was just a facet of my growing up, the ultimate kick in the You’re-Not-A-Kid-Anymore pants, a cruel trick of the mind that was conspiring to make my life more miserable than it was. Teenage angst, anyone?

It wasn’t until not long ago, about a month, in fact, that I began to realize something. I almost typed “the truth” in place of “something” in the previous sentence, but as I’ve not tried this out yet, it’s hard to say what “the truth” really is. But I can tell you what I saw.

Picture this: Michaels craft store. Me, shopping for some inane thing or the other, wandering down the aisles of dusty fake flowers and picture frames. Middle of August. Got the picture?

Tell me, how do two full aisles of Christmas decorations fit into that picture?

Tell me how a drive home from work in the middle of September allows me to view the giant inflatable bat already hanging in someone’s front lawn in anticipation of Halloween.

Tell me why, exactly as the Christmas decorations go down do the Valentine’s Day things go up?

Doesn’t that seem a bit… wrong?

I remember when Christmas didn’t come until December. Now we have it in August. Is it any wonder we’re sick of it long before it gets here? Maybe my disillusionment wasn’t fate’s cruel kick in the pants, maybe it was the world’s cruel commercialism. Maybe the wonder isn’t lost, maybe it’s just squashed.

Maybe… if I avoid shopping… if I avoid the television… if I switch to iTunes when the radio starts playing Christmas hits 24/7 in November… if I keep my eyes on the road on my way home…

Could it come back?

Or am I Peter Pan-ing, clinging foolishly to my youth while the adult world whizzes by, staring?

I guess we’ll see, won’t we?