Holydays tend to mask our emptiness and longing to be filled. The red wine you drank away at dusk wanes with dawn as morning sobers you up. Pork steaks satisfy no heart, and night-long banter wearies your head to bed. The long-awaited celebration time vanishes as vapor in cold winter—as though it never was. You sure are merry, but do you belong? You are lost, and who can find you?
… Be Merry, But Belong