The bottom of the year, the end of the line on a long scroll of calendar.  Thirty-one days of ho, ho, ho’s and holly; yuletide fare and winter white.  Children growing ever more ecstatic as Christmas approaches.  Adults, some still young at heart, share in the glow of the holidays.  Others, not so much.  Disheartened and fatigued with the hustle and bustle, Scrooges among us grumble still.

Pay them no mind. We have more than eight inches of snow on the ground here in central Iowa. It’s beautiful, truly a winter wonderland, a feast for our eyes and world-weary spirits. Christmas lights up our neighborhoods. Holiday music triggers childhood memories and it’s easy to get caught up in the nostalgia of the season. TV fare soothes our psyches with classic favorite characters: Rudolph, Grinch, Ralphie and Elf.

I purchased a gorgeous copy of A Christmas Carol a few years ago. Last night, I started reading it, hoping to make this an annual tradition. Required reading in my ninth grade English class, the book made an impression, way, way too many years in the past. However, I’ve not read it since high school and decided a few weeks ago to read it in the month of December this year. The book is an illustrated version, nicely bound, and so far, a real joy to read. It’s fun to pore over the images, on nearly every page. It’s a shame I’ve not done this before now.

No matter. I’m enjoying it now just as I intend to enjoy the holiday season this year. Sometimes, I admit, I’ve been a bit of a Scrooge myself. My adult mantra has always been one foot in front of the other. Onward! For Christmas, now, likewise and ditto.

The child in me nods enthusiastically.