December 26th is a special day - everyone's mourning the day just gone, but it's also still full of the previous dregs of Christmassy spirit that was so prevalent only a few short hours ago. It's a time for lying in, closing your eyes and going back to sleep, ignoring the fact that there's an actual world outside. All of that can wait. It won't be going anywhere, not today.

The Christmas dinners consumed sit in our stomachs, heady and heavy, leaving us listless and completely in love with the sunshine or the rain outside our windows. There's also that long debated question: when do you stop listening to the Christmas songs? Not today, certainly, they're still on the radio and on our television screens.

We start counting down the days until the next year begins, surrounded by mountains of wrapping paper and food of our own creation, together with family or so incredibly alone. Whatever the time, or the place, we're all mourning something. Whether that's ourselves or our hearts, we'll never know. But we all know that empty feeling, the slight ache in the pit of our stomach. That sadness. The odd swell of our hearts whenever we hear cheesy songs on the radio. 

Tomorrow, we'll have to start living again. We'll get to our feet, pull a suit and tie onto our weary bodies, and work, like Christmas never happened. Like these two days of quiet never existed. Leaving ourselves vulnerable and exposed to the outside of the world. A small smile on our faces as we see the remaining Christmas lights on the houses - trying desperately to get back to the pre-Christmas feeling.

Published by Ellie Crowson-Jeffery