What is December? A think piece for the road: its Christmas Day

Today is the day Christians and believers alike celebrate the loss their community suffered A couple 1000 years ago. Or was it the birth? Today is also the day the whole world tries to take a holiday, at least all most all of humanity. Should we progress? Today is the day I decided to write a think piece for my website.

A far from quiet road symbolising the journey of life in December

December as a Time for Reflection

I haven't published a think piece in 5 five years. In 2021, my laptop packed up and I was left with little means to complete the project I was working on that year - Puff and Power girls. The years have passed but the stories remain unfinished. What happened to Rosy Ronke? Well, years have passed and I cannot get the picture out of my head. What picture? Of Ronke in a mad house with mad house kind screaming in mad house slang: "let me talk to the reporter!" And in mad house culture, the nurse screams back: "the reporter has been missing since 2021, it's now 2025, you're imagining things." But I, Ripple Effects, am the reporter. And Ronke exists only in your minds. Perharps mine more.

"But what happened after 2021?" Boss Ronke would ask, if she could, and with a cold stern look that could be mistaken for confusion if you only looked once. I would wipe my nose before answering, like I was preparing a constructive response. One void of artificial intelligence. And then I would scan the view before me, as if the words were in the air, and then I will scream: "were you here?" Of course she was here, that was the year of her inception and conception and birth, 2020. You may not remember this, but it was a complex year, and the aftermaths I have felt until this moment.

But Ronke will say: "You are not alone in that story, it is not unique to you! My story is unique!" And I will interupt her: "were you here in 2022 then? I travelled, explored newer parts of my life." And then I will pause. Realise

Actually realise that none of this matters. You know? Every year that passed. Every Christmas. Every Passover. Period.

Even if time is one continuum without a fixed period.  Even if time is one spec of dust in the grand scheme of things. And like air, it cannot be ignored even if it's not in front of you.

The time it took all the stories, all the poems, and opinions. All the time I took to think, write and publish.

And now I write again, with the Lasting Impact of December’s Spirit