December 26th.

The day after the ribbons and bows have been swept away and the leftovers nearly stacked in containers in the fridge.

Like any big event, the aftermath is sometimes uncomfortable. I have a proclivity for introspection, and find myself wondering why the feeling of a balloon bursting so often follows the build up to the day itself.

I think for me, nothing can ever compare to the wonder in my head. How amazing that world is, and how real this one can be.

Not only majestic, but also painful.

Why must we feel the peaks and valleys so strongly? Instead of living life at a comfortable 72 and sunny, we are struck with the minus 30 and plus 40 of it all.

The grief and the joy.

In order to appreciate the happiness, we must know how sorrow feels.

And while Christmas and Boxing Day are but a small example of what I’m trying to say, it’s a decent comparison.

To know the good, we must also know the bad, balance must be kept to truly understand the difference.

Or so I ponder, full of stuffing and tired from the drive home.