Dinner is cooking, and it smells great. No turkey. No great expectations. No plans for the next artificial emotional pump-up. No one screaming and cursing at the TV, no after-dinner battles to sour the food. It’s quiet, peaceful. Enjoyable.
Not all families are like that, but I know mine wasn’t unique — there are enough divorces and warped personalities. Constantly shattered hope leaves deep scars, whether or not the victim is consciously aware of them. Life can be rotten for children of parents who can’t grow up.
If you can enjoy your holidays as they are, all is well. If not, if all the promises are only lies that smile, something needs to change. I refused to carry on a sickened tradition. I make my own.
Please, save your sympathy for those who have not clawed their way to freedom. I’m having a great day.