As a kid, the week between Christmas and New Year’s was always full of fun and excitement-- a whole week off school, new toys and clothes, staying up late or getting up early--but it also had this gnawing feeling, an ache, a longing for something more.

This longing feeling always started on Christmas Day. My parents have always been very generous at Christmas time. I think gift-giving is also one of their primary love languages, so that meant there was always quite the pile of wrapping paper to clean up on Christmas day. If a gift had multiple components that could easily be separated—say a pair of socks-- my parents would often wrap each part separately because my siblings and I loved the thrill of opening another gift. Okay, no they didn’t actually wrap socks individually, but you get the idea :)

Since I’m reminiscing about Christmas growing up, I also need to confess that I was “that kid” who was counting how many gifts everyone had under the tree, and I totally would scope out where all my presents were in the days leading up to Christmas.

So why am I telling you all of this? Well, after the last box was opened, after frantically searching through the pile of shredded wrapping paper to find your doll’s left shoe, after looking around at your new bounty of loot—it hits you: Is that it? Isn't there something else? The longing for something more sets in. It’s like now that the excitement is gone, the longing for something more begins the fill the void that excitement once filled.