Daily Prompt – Holidays – 9.17.2025
A person should know how they celebrate holidays, right? Right?
It’s a question that’s far easier to answer if you haven’t had ongoing trauma.
When I was a kid, I remember holidays at my grandparent’s house, with all of the aunts, uncles, and cousins. Women were either cooking on site, or bringing their offerings for the shared table.
I wasn’t subjected to the kid’s table until I was 12, and that was so I could look after the 4 little ones so the adults could enjoy themselves. Before that, there was no chance my grandpa was going to eat a holiday meal without me sitting right next to him.
Men would hang out in the “other room” which was an addition built onto the back of their house, and watch sportsball. They talked about sports, and cars, and guns, and hunting, and fishing and home improvement projects.
We got to open one gift on Christmas Eve, and Grandpa rejoiced in getting to wake everyone up early on Christmas morning. Everyone else was quite surly so I stuck close to him.
They’d put on records, and Mom had quite the collection of vinyl, not at all lacking in the Christmas Category. They’d play Tennessee Ernie Ford, Elvis, George Strait, Kenny and Dolly, with some Nitty Gritty Dirt Band sprinkled in. We’d sing along.
Grandma would play some carols on the organ, and we’d sing along with her too.
I remember watching Disney specials like Mickey’s Christmas Carol, and all of the claymation/animated classics.
Mom spent that month in between Thanksgiving and Christmas baking just about every cookie, fudge, or candy I could imagine. She’d make assortments to send to all of the neighbors.
Mom painted ceramics in the winter, when she couldn’t be outside gardening. Most of the ornaments for our tree were ceramics she’d painted, many of which had little music buttons in them. We all had special ornaments with our names on them, or that were given to us each year. Similarly, Grandma cross-stitched little angels that were in tiny little frames sprinkled on the tree. I had so many favorites.
Mom was very particular about her tree. No two ornaments of the same color could be touching. No two ornaments of the same theme could be touching. The tinsel had to be placed one strand at a time. Bubble lights were here favorite, and the most likely to set the house on fire.
I think I was five when they took Christmas away from my brother and I realized that it could be weaponized. It didn’t take me much time to notice that the biggest jerks at school got the best gifts from Santa. Unfortunately, I internalized it as a symbol of my self worth.
By the time I was 10, holidays were more about expectations and stress than about anything enjoyable.
Then Dad died, and the joy just fell out of them. We went through the motions. The food was good. There was always commentary about who couldn’t make it as fewer and fewer did.
I was grateful when I started working retail, and had an excuse to skip it. By the time I had become a teenager, holidays were a chance for various family members to recite the script of how badly I’d screwed up everything.
As an adult, I’ve been compelled to do whatever my partners wanted for holidays. There’s always someone to be made happy, and that person has never been me. Nobody else wants to cook? I’ll cook the whole thing by myself. Feeling territorial over the turkey? You got it! What would you like me to bring? You want to host? We’re happy to come over. You’re tired of hosting? I’m happy to take it.
As the decades have passed, I’ve mostly just been grateful when a holiday hasn’t busted out into a drunken brawl, because I’ve had my share of those years as well.
My favorite holidays, my best memories, are of holidays spent without checklists, and immersed in joy. I’ve found very few people willing to join me in them, but it looks like this year may start a whole new tradition of it.
Operation **Reclaim** Loveland 
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