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Typically speaking, I have never enjoyed this time of the year.

Perhaps, the conditions are much too suitable for reflection. Or maybe because the nostalgia of the season always seems to come with its own, less desirable, associates. Sadly, I find that personally, despite festivities, melancholy is the prevalent flavor.

At some point during this particular time, we have to choose what we will bring with us into this new year that approaches. And it is then, most likely, where we discover that there are more skeletons in our closets than we care to know about, more baggage we carry than we care to admit, and that the specters of one’s past are still very much alive and haunting our present.

Surely, there must good things that we will bring with us – the task of which comes with as much ease and simplicity as we care to give it. But what is one to do with say, regret? Or failure and mistakes? How about boredom, or simply the mundane? No doubt we are faced with a dilemma – whether these will continue to occupy the same emotional and mnemonic resources as they have till now, or whether we should just gloss them over and hopefully be able to sleep better at night.

One consolation, I find, is that with any good notebook, the next page is fresh and new.

Next page, please.