The feeling lasts for less and less time these days, though.
Last year, after just twenty minutes, I began wondering when everyone else would awake.
Maybe its just age, the natural progression of growing more cynical and less interested in childhood traditions.
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Or maybe its a sign of the timesChristmas just doesnt really feel like Christmas anymore.
The peace we always preach this time of year has run out.
These days, holidays remind me of my Aunt Dana.
Somehow, the gap has grown both bigger and less noticeable since she passed away in 2021.
Heres the thing about Dana: She was larger than life.
She had a laugh that could fill up every corner of the house.
She loved any reason to celebrate, and she always did it fully.
She searched for meaning in even the smallest crevices of everyday life.
It was tragic, though maybe not surprising, that one would eventually lead to her demise.
It was covid, in case you were wondering.
It feels like, in those days, it was always covid.
Its hard to think about now, because no one really wants to remember those years.
There are some rifts that never fully healed, some bridges we just cant cross again.
The year before, in 2020, Christmas was a contentious subject in my family.
When I made it clear I wouldnt be attending, my choice ultimately branded me as the years Grinch.
I didnt care too much.
What was there to celebrate, anyway?
In 2020, Christmas was not Christmas to me.
Less than a year later, Dana got sick.
She spent a month in the hospital, and by Halloween, she was gone.
Guilt and logic intermingled.
I didnt have the mental capacity to fully process the complexity of it.
Im not sure any of ushaveprocessed it yetnot really.
Too much has happened in the years shes been gone.
But every December, I cant ignore it anymore.
The house is always too quiet.
There is too much missing for the picture to ever feel complete.
I miss the chaos of a Christmas fully celebrated.
I miss the feeling of never knowing what it would be like to live without it.
I rarely pay that much attention to themmy brain has never had the willpower to multitask effectively.
Okay, I said, only a little surprised, but which one specifically?
Theyre all kind of the same.
The more I thought about it, the more I understood.
I nodded solemnlyhis father had passed away not even two years before.
Because, in a way, isnt that what I do, too?
Every year, I put on the same movies Ive watched a hundred times.
And in those moments, maybe I dont, either.
When I was a kidprobably four or fivemy sister decided she wanted to put together a Christmas play.
No matter the time of year, it brings my scattered mind a strange sense of stillness.
No moment ever truly feels silent anymore, though.
There is so much noise, too much noise, and I never know how to escape it.
My phone screen constantly lights up with messages and notifications.
I can hardly get online without coming across something that is viscerally upsetting.
Has it always been like this?
My response was immediate: No, thanks.
He glanced up at me curiously.
And can I ask the reason why?
He wrote the prescription.
He understood, in the way we all seem to, what that gesture meant.
In a time where words never seem to be enough, we all speak the same unspoken language.
I want to be the kind of person who doesnt ruminate this way.
Maybe thats part of the reason I still lean into the season as much as I can.
Ive never been much of a traditionalist, but I make an excuse for Christmas.
I do my best, if not for myself, then for everyone else around me.
There are a lot more tangible ways to make the world a better place.
In all of the terrible, we have still found something wonderful.
I am trying to prove that I still have hope.
Maybe it will never be enough, but it is something.
In the season of faith, I need to believe it is something.
