There is no hiding from it; the holiday season approaches and comes in full swing. So much happens and changes right before our eyes. What was yesterday’s Jack-O-Lantern is today’s turkey, or tomorrow’s gingerbread house.
All of a sudden, the leaves are on the ground crunching under your feet. Times of celebration come along with this season of renewal. Exams are over. Suddenly I’m one semester closer to being a senior.
A new year approaches, bringing a fresh new semester right behind it. Christmas stands before us, carrying magic in the form of movies, music, trees, and decorations.
As I grew older, my favorite holiday memories and traditions are transformed. The holidays became less about the Christmas dance at school, and less about my New Year's plan. A jam-packed Christmas break schedule entailing a Secret Santa party with every high school friend begins to lose its appeal.
Sitting around the dinner table with my parents and two sisters became exactly what I wanted to do, not something I wanted to excuse myself from like my 17-year-old self would do in a heartbeat. Waking up to beat the crowd at Best Buy with my dad doesn't sound so terrible either.
A three-sister blowout fight was more out of sight than any of us would have thought five years ago. When Mom suggests “A White Christmas” for the fifth time, she gets no eye rolls because we all know it’s her favorite. Family trips are no longer required fun, but rather just fun.
Don’t get me wrong; family time can still reach its limit. But there is something really special about a complete dinner table, one that has only heard the voices of Mom and Dad for the past few months.
A full house becomes something I cherish. The commotions that wake me up don’t put me in a bad mood. Sibling rivalries take a back seat. Suddenly, Mom’s every question (especially the one she asked last week) doesn’t bring annoyance, rather more evidence of how much she truly cares.
Dad’s talks about money, and majors, and jobs, and a (rather questionable) future don’t become a dreaded conversation. I start realizing I am actually listening to what my parents are telling me, not just nodding and responding with a cold, “yeah.” What used to end in “Dad, I know,” now flows into a fruitful conversation.
My Uncle Charlie’s extremely tight squeezed hug gets a tight squeeze right back. I don’t mind retelling him everything I shared at Easter. The kitchen preparing the Thanksgiving feast was once avoided, but now holds a place to pick up more of those little tricks Mom does that make everything taste so yummy.
Though I will admit, seeing high school friends when I return home excites me. Catching up with them remains important to me, for we spent seven plus years together. But as my visits to home become more rare, it has become less of something I’m willing to ditch my parents for four nights out of the week to do.
Being without things can show its importance to you. I believe that’s how it works with family. The less you see them, the more you value the times in which you do have a week of unplanned freedom.
As siblings grow older, distance becomes a six-hour drive home and not down the hall. Perhaps, as the frequency of our togetherness diminishes, family only becomes something of greater importance and anticipation.
Going home has captured a new meaning. Upon turning 16, going home was my only option after school. Going home meant the dreaded curfew was minutes away. Going home is anticipated with the utmost excitement. Its something I write on my calendar that eases my mind when I look upon my month full of due dates. Maybe going home means more to me now than leaving home did at the ripest of my teenage years.
