By O. Morris
With the holiday season fast approaching, I think we’ve all heard that all-too-familiar question, “What would you like for Christmas?”
Like so many of you, I’m already blessed. So my response is usually the same: Nothing.
But this year I’m singing a new song on the gift CD. This holiday, I think I really would love something in particular, even though I’m positive I won’t get it.
Let me explain. You see, this year I stepped up my exercise game by adding tap dancing lessons. That’s right: I’m a “hoofer” and proud of it. The 8 p.m. lessons not only have been fun but have bought back some incredible memories from my childhood when practicing for the recital was as much a part of my life as breathing.
But that all came to a screeching halt in the blink of an eye. Did I pull a muscle? No. Believe me, how I wish that were the case. A pulled muscle will heal in a week.
No, this reason is more dastardly, more devious and more reprehensible. It rolled in like a thief in the night and wreaked havoc on everything, including my beloved tap dancing lessons. I knew it was coming. But that knowledge did nothing to prepare me for devastation in its aftermath.
What is it? Brace yourself. I’m about to stand in my truth for all of humanity. Ready. Set. Drum roll, please!
I’m exhausted since the time change. (Scream!)
OMG, I miss the daylight! I miss my hour! Shouting from the heavens: Oh, dear, sixty minutes, I miss you so much! I never knew what a difference you made! Father, please hear my plea! Please rejuvenate me with a power drink!
I might be blaring like a lunatic, but I’m dead serious when I say my perfect Christmas gift this year would be to return to daylight saving time. Ever since the clocks rolled back, I’ve been dreaming about the Yellow Brick Road to Oz. Not to ask for a heart or courage, but a little daylight from the great wizard in the evenings would be better than Dorothy returning to Auntie Em.
The plight is real. Yesterday after taking a nap thinking it would help, I was horrified when I looked out the window and saw pitch black. I leaped to my feet thinking it HAD to be midnight. How could I have slept so long? Has the time change reduced me to the stage of infant? I gathered myself and reluctantly peered at the clock. I braced myself for the bad news. It was 6:37 p.m. Good grief.
I don’t know why an hour difference feels like a leap into the bowels of hell, but for some reason it does. Even a vat of coffee can’t get me back on track. I’ve been nothing but bleary eyed since that fateful Sunday morning. I swear being without daylight in the evening sucks. It actually feels like we’ve all been turned into a bunch of vampires. “Holy Night of the Living Dead, Batman.”
OK, I know we get back to it in a few months, but this year switching from daylight savings time has seemed to have a profound effect on my life.
Getting out when it’s cold and miserable is bad enough. Add total darkness and doing anything but sleep seems impossible. I don’t draw energy from darkness; at best, I find it saddening and motivation-crushing.
To make matters even worse, that extra daylight has now been replaced with inactivity and eating. Oh, great. Now not only can I talk to Santa Claus, but I can essentially look like him too.
I don’t care what anyone says. Daylight later in the evening is freaking wonderful. For me, it makes everything about living life better. I just don’t understand why we can’t just keep it that way.
Now, I do understand that in the winter we get only a few hours of daylight. I also know that most people would rather have those hours in the morning so they can get out of bed, but I say you’ll get out of bed fine if you attach the alarm to a stun gun.
So, Santa, please, if you’re listening, I would love daylight after 7 p.m. for Christmas. Please!
Season’s Greetings! May the true holiday spirit be with you. Assume nothing, do more, smile often, dream big, laugh a lot. Your hardest times often lead to the greatest moments of your life. Keep the faith. It will all be worth it in the end.
I want to thank all my readers from the bottom of my heart for all your wonderful letters. Please keep them coming. Write to me at email@example.com.