Dear Christmas,

Don't get me wrong, I love you. I love everything about you; the tree, the tinsel, the eight tiny rain deer---and don't even get me started on the cookies. I could write a sonnet about the cookies alone. But, Christmas, we have to talk. Maybe you should sit down.

When I was a little girl, I loved nothing more than you, and the sheer delight I felt when I began to see the halls decked, and the malls decked and hear carols in the air, well, it was overwhelming. Walking into a department store and seeing Christmas bells and bows donned the day after Thanksgiving was enough to make me literally jump with joy! And now that I am an adult, I have to admit, some of that magic is lost. I am sure some of it is because I am no longer a child, but I think a lot of the luster lacking lately is due to you, well, being a bit of a bully. There, I said it. Christmas, you are a bully.

I don't think you have done this intentionally, or anything, but you have taken things too far. You've spread yourself too thin. No longer are there 11 months of anticipation leading up to a whole December's worth of Christmas cheer. No, your presence, nay, propaganda begins even before Halloween has arrived. And Thanksgiving, poor Thanksgiving! Thanksgiving has been completely squashed. Awash in red and green blink-y lights and bell-ringers, Thanksgiving is like some awkward Thursday night dinner date standing in the way of putting the tree up in mid November. I mean, think about it, Christmas, what did Thanksgiving ever do to you?

Thanksgiving has always been kind of quiet and unassuming. It's just dinner really, a little feast to share with family and friends. And in a country where gluttony seems to be our favorite sin, stuffing ourselves silly is hardly reserved for holidays, I'll give you that. But, Thanksgiving isn't all about the turkey. Thanksgiving used to be a simple celebration, a moment to acknowledge the good things you have in your life. A moment to, perhaps after a hard year, enjoy the harvest and share whatever abundance you have with people who are close to you. There are no elves, Santa's or sleighs. Not a lot of myth or mythology. Not a lot of fuss. Just good a good homemade meal and a reminder that no matter what you have going on, sometimes all the hard work does pay off and even if you don't have a lot, be thankful for what you've got.

I pretty mice message, don't you think, Christmas? Yeah, sounds like something you might even read about in a Christmas card…in December.

So, I am asking you, in the nicest way possible, to back off a little bit, and please stop squashing Thanksgiving.  I love you. And I love Bing Crosby. But I really don't want to see or hear anymore from either of you until Friday. Capeesh?  

Happy holidays,

Amy