It’s funny how the holidays roll around at the same time every year yet somehow catch me off guard. Suddenly, the airwaves are flooded with countless renditions of “Santa Baby,” and it feels like Clark Griswold has taken up residence next door—seriously, who’s footing that electric bill? While everyone else is in a frenzy over holiday cooking, I can’t say I share the enthusiasm for extravagant feasts. Honestly, I’m not a fan of green beans or those crunchy fried onions, and the thought of them touching makes my stomach turn. Setting a table? Not my thing. And don’t get me started on “unsetting” it. Brewing coffee hours after overeating? A bit excessive, right?
Now, before you grab your festive red Starbucks cup and come after me for not fully embracing one of America’s biggest holidays, let me ask you this: Can you really celebrate in the classic Hallmark-style when there’s one crucial element missing—a community?
Some folks, like those serving overseas or away from home, find themselves separated from loved ones, and that’s tough. But I’m talking about that neighbor across the street who’s housebound with caretakers visiting daily or the people left behind by family or struggling with social anxiety. I mean those who, like me, are facing another holiday season without the typical gathering of loved ones due to various circumstances. For us, Thanksgiving can feel just like any other Thursday, not the grand occasion that many spend weeks preparing for.
Holidays haven’t been a walk in the park for me. My parents split when I was 16, leaving our family small. A decade ago, my dad passed away just before Christmas, certainly not the best way to ring in the holiday cheer. More recently, my partner and I have faced our share of challenges, and it seems every November things go awry. This year was no different. But when my mother voiced, “Why bother? What do we even have to be thankful for?” in a moment of frustration, it caused me to pause and reflect.
Instead of counting my blessings, I started thinking about what I wish I could be grateful for, allowing myself to mourn the dreams I had of a bustling family filled with love, laughter echoing through the halls, and friends milling around the table sharing stories late into the night. This isn’t my reality. But I’m determined to shift my focus from grief to gratitude.
My circle might be small, and yes, it has some cracks, but that doesn’t mean I lack things to be thankful for. For starters: my joyful, healthy little toddler. He deserves a better experience than I had. So, I’ll make it my mission to show him that love can be found in quiet moments and simple days. “Special” doesn’t have to mean extravagant; it can be in shared laughter, hand-holding, and tranquil spaces.
As we navigate this world that often feels overwhelming, we’ll remind each other that while big gatherings are nice, they aren’t essential. We’ll return to the roots of the holiday—being thankful for one another, for what we have, and even what we lack. When it’s all said and done, we might find ourselves grateful for avoiding that opinionated uncle, contentious debates, dry turkey, and that dreaded green bean casserole.
In conclusion, the holiday season doesn’t have to be about grand festivities. Instead, it can be about the small moments that truly matter.
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