Story Behind the Song
Song title: December
Written by: Wayward Milne
Written: 9 May 2026
Original inspiration: Memories of childhood, growing up, becoming a parent, loss, loneliness, and trying to reconnect with the feeling December used to bring.
Musical direction: Created in several contrasting styles. The original concept was slower, reflective and cinematic, while some of the strongest completed demos developed into lively banjo-and-fiddle Irish pub-folk versions.
Approximate tempo: Originally conceived at around 76 BPM, with several preferred completed versions at approximately 108 BPM.
Key emotional idea: Remembering what December once felt like and hoping that feeling can still be found again.
“December” was written on 9 May 2026.
The song is not really about Christmas in the obvious way.
It is not meant to be a novelty Christmas song, a glossy festive advert, or a track about presents, decorations and forced cheer.
It is about something quieter and more personal than that.
It is about the feeling December used to have.
The song came from my own memories: being a child, growing up, becoming a parent, carrying losses, feeling loneliness, and trying to understand why a time of year that once felt magical can later feel distant, painful or difficult to reach.
When you are young, December can feel almost magical.
The lights feel brighter.
The cold feels exciting.
The waiting feels enormous.
The smallest things can feel full of meaning.
Then life happens.
You grow up.
You lose people.
You become a parent.
You see the season through your children’s eyes.
You carry more.
You remember more.
You miss more.
The same month comes round again, but something inside you does not always respond in the same way.
That is the emotional centre of “December”.
It is a song about noticing that a feeling you once had has gone missing — or at least gone quiet.
The world still changes around you. The lights still go up. The season still arrives. But inside, it does not always feel the same.
The song follows that ache.
It looks back at childhood wonder, then moves through adulthood, parenting, memory, loss, loneliness, and the strange sadness of wanting to feel something you cannot quite reach anymore.
But it is not a hopeless song.
Underneath the sadness, there is still a desire to reconnect.
The song is not saying that the magic has gone forever.
It is asking whether it might still be somewhere inside us, buried under time, grief, responsibility, loneliness, tiredness, and everything we have learned to carry.
At its heart, “December” is about my memories: being a child, growing up, becoming a parent, experiencing loss and loneliness, and trying — hoping — to reconnect with that feeling.
Musically, the song was originally imagined as emotional, reflective and cinematic without becoming over-produced.
The first intended tempo was around 76 BPM — slow enough to carry the ache and memory, but with enough movement to allow the song to build.
After the demos were completed, however, my personal preference became the livelier versions at around 108 BPM, particularly those driven by banjo and fiddle with an Irish pub-folk feel.
That energy brings another side of the song to life: warmer, more communal and made for people to join in, while still carrying the sadness underneath.
A slower arrangement could begin simply with piano, acoustic guitar or a soft vocal, then gradually build with warmth, strings, backing vocals and gentle percussion.
Whatever the arrangement, it should not sound like a glossy Christmas advertisement.
It should feel more honest than that.
Sad, but not miserable.
Nostalgic, but not trapped in the past.
Emotional, but still carrying a small light.
The ideal version should allow the listener to feel the contrast between childhood wonder and adult loneliness, before leaving them with the sense that something might still be recoverable.
December still comes round.