Christmas Eve For the First Time

I know lots of people like to think of New Year’s as their time to reflect on the old and ring in the new, but for me it has always been Christmas Eve. For the past decade or so, I find myself lying awake late into the night–not thinking of presents, or visiting family, but just ruminating. Ruminating on the year I just lived, and what is about to come.

It’s a natural break for someone who has been leading a student life for seven years. Christmas occurs right in the middle of the semester break, even for a third year medical student on her rotations. I have had a few days to relax, and I have a few more after this. My mind is free from it’s usual strains of clinical stuff and fitting life in around that. And it wanders.

A moment ago, I was simply lying on the floor of the apartment, staring at our Christmas tree. Tomorrow will be the first Christmas my husband and I have spent away from our families. We’re experimenting with building our own traditions, for our newly-minted family of two.

So I’m not in my old room at my parent’s house, watching the shadows creep across the wall and wondering when my world will change. It has changed this year. I realized, lying on the floor beneath our tree, that 2013 has been a particularly good year–a momentous year, even– for me.

Lots of it revolved around the wedding, of course. I found the whole rigamarole fun. And I finished off second year of med, firmly passing the comprehensive final exam. I had a rocking honeymoon, and to my great surprise, I am very much enjoying my third year of medicine.

Those are my big landmarks; there are too many small ones to describe. Little things, like finishing paintings and taking time for creative work. Managing to keep training karate. Holding on to friends. Reading works. Myriad little important things that make my life mine.

I’m also pleased with blogging–yes! Pleased! I’ve had my fits and starts, and a fair few starts that have yet to make it to posting, but I am glad to have begun this enterprise, and I think about it often. I might get better at writing more frequently, I might get better at writing things people want to read. Or I might not. That uncertainty excites me.

I’m excited, too, to be in the place where I am, with a copy of Ray Bradbury’s darker short stories to help me wear out the night to Christmas (I don’t know why, but I’ve been in the habit of reading morose and morbid things on Christmas eve. Perhaps it helps balance out the surfeit of happy that the rest of the season engenders).
Tomorrow is my new year, and I don’t think I’ve been this excited for Christmas to come in a long time. I hope your time tomorrow is as wonderful as mine; Merry Christmas.

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