Because Holidays Can Be Tricksy, Like Hobbitses
Tomorrow is American Thanksgiving. And I am sitting here, drinking coffee with an eye mask on, before I start my cooking. The calm before the storm, etc.
I know that holidays can be difficult or fraught. Sometimes, we miss people. Sometimes, dealing with people is a challenge. Sometimes, we feel lonely—either by ourselves or in the thick of it. The heart can be messy, and we all have our ghosts.
If things are hard for you, this year, for whatever reason—please be gentle with yourself. Remember that if someone comments on your weight, the proper response is to eat them. That love is not measured by the number around the table, but warmth and heart—it’s been ages since I’ve been around full extended family for a holiday, but that doesn’t make the day less.
Small joys are always in abundance—whether it’s putting on the Macy’s Day Parade (miss me with any of the local ones. Imitations! *hisses*) or eating brownies before anyone rings the doorbell. A nice glass of cider, a stolen bit of quiet. Laughter and finding reasons to laugh. Stealing cheese from the antipasto or sneaking bits of stuffing. Messaging friends while you both cook, wearing equally ridiculous/delightful aprons. Setting the table and recounting funny stories from years past. (Like the time my mother tried to poison us accidentally with soap in the stuffing.)
Whatever your feelings are, they are okay and valid. Whatever you are feeling is what you are feeling, and you don’t have force yourself to plaster on a smile. But I will also remind you that the ache always eases. That things change, and that means change is possible. And that opening up your heart can sometimes be scary or unsettling, but it is always worth it. (Sometimes, that leads to the best stories! Sometimes, it leads to the best people. I know that my bravery has always shown me myself, like a mirrorbox. Shoutout to Trin T. Minh Ha!)
If you are grieving something (a person, a tradition, the way something used to be), please be gentle with yourself. And reach out to someone you trust and tell them. We often keep to ourselves when we are hurting, when we might feel better if we lean on our people. That is what having people is always about. (And that’s partially why I always blunder in like the Kool-Aid Man, because I don’t like the idea of anyone I care about dealing with something on their own. Incidentally, I rarely ask for things, so you will probably need to club me over the head and just do things, because I am bad at my own advice. *coughs* ANYWAY…) Let people in. Let people care. Let people love you. Yes, when things are messy. Yes, when things are hard. Yes, when you are not your best.
Because guess what? You don’t have to be your best to be loved. Don’t ever think you have to be perfect for that. Because that’s a damned lie.
And one final thing: If we are close and you need me, I am always just a message away. A text. A call. I am the person who says reach out, and I mean it. So, if tomorrow is hard, I am here. Yes, while I am cooking. And I will always take it as a personal affront if you need me and do not let me help. Because that’s how I am.
Okay? Okay.
Today’s cooking soundtrack includes The Civil Wars. (Not sure the emed will work, but it’s “Same Old, Same Old” live. You can find it on YouTube.) God, I miss their music. What a duo.