Walking across 24th Street tonight, I couldn't help but think that this deserted, forlorn tree is symbolic of early January. Once all glittery and decorated, this tree glowed in the glory of the holidays. It stood proudly in someone's living room, illuminated by little twinkle lights and covered at the base with beautifully wrapped presents. Come January, it's been stripped of its color, tossed back outside and left on the curb. Kind of like the rest of us. After the warmth of the holidays, we've all been dumped into frosty January. With the season of comfort and joy behind us, we've been thrust back into reality; projects that need to be completed, kitchens that need to be cleaned, and an endless month of long, dark work days. There's no more vacations, no more enthusiastic "Happy Holidays!" greetings, and no more presents. It happens every year, and still I'm surprised by the disappointment I feel that first day back in the saddle. And then I remind myself that this, too, shall pass, and I'll be back in the groove again soon.
And that's what SEL saw today.
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