What about the Holidays?

The Holidays are a funny thing.

I grew up celebrating Christmas with my family -- my Momma helped us make popcorn garland while we listened to the Jackson 5 Christmas album, my Daddy made the fish stew on Christmas Eve and then took us for a late-night drive to see the lights in Schuyler (do they even put them up anymore?) while my sister and I sat cozy in the backseat, trying to spot Santa in the sky (we saw him more than once!).  It was a BIG deal.

But you know, we got older... my parents separated, but still came together for Christmas every year.  But I got married, then divorced... my sister started a family of her own... things just started to happen, and it became a little less magical than it used to be.  I went through my "bah humbug" phase for a year or two, actively not giving a crap about Christmas (or trying really hard to appear not to).  Once I got into my mid-twenties, I decided it wasn't worth it to be a grump, and I started to love it again.  It became "the Holidays" instead of Christmas, but still... I fell back in love with twinkling lights, a decorated tree (or ladder, or chair), the music, the feeling of the whole thing.  In Chicago, that started to come with snow, which made things even more wonderful.

Tonight, I celebrated Hanukkah for the first time.  I made a menorah very spur-of-the-moment, out of a pair of twigs and some tea lights.  For dinner I made beef brisket, potato latkes with sour cream and cranberry-applesauce, and noodle kugel -- it was delightful!  I lit the first candle on the menorah, and read the prayer from my iPhone.  A little unconventional, yes, but the feeling of celebration is still there.  It feels good, it feels warm and like home.

In ten days I'm going to turn thirty.  Thirty with a big "T".  All I wanted was to have the people I love here with me, and I got a good part of my wish -- one of my best friends, Marika, and my lovely Momma are coming to Chicago to visit!  We're not going to be able to go out to dinner every night, or do anything fancy-schmancy, but that doesn't matter to me right now.  I'm just excited to have people I love here, in my apartment 720 miles away, to drink glogg and eat whatever nonsense I'm cooking up that night.  To sip coffee with next to my faux-er-place.

Sometimes this time of year isn't everything I want it to be, but little things like this make it feel okay.  

Warm, cozy, like home.