Everyone who knows me knows I don’t much care for holidays. I like time off, but I’m not a big “traditions” guy, I’m not a big “seasons” guy, and I’m not a big “family gatherings” guy. I look at the winter holidays as a time to take a few three or four day weekends and relax a bit before the new year starts. The last two Christmases I spent with BB, just the two of us. Then we spent New Year’s Eve with her family in remote Virginia.
This year, because of weird vagaries of schedules, we’re switching it. We go to Virginia for Christmas, and stay home for New Year’s. I like BB’s family. It’s low key and informal. Her brother is a good guy and so is her father. The family makes good food and good coffee and fun conversation. It’s a nice place to be.
But overall, holidays of any sort don’t really interest me. My family as a kid went all-in for Christmas and my sisters still do significant lifts to have good holidays with their kids. My older sister, especially, really marks the seasons with regular feasts and celebrations. I admire that and in some ways envy her enthusiasm. But I’m not wired that way. The turning of the seasons or marking of time isn’t enough to engage me.
I do believe in celebrating time though. Just, not for arbitrary ticks on a calendar. I like celebrating anniversaries of relationships and events. I’ve already told BB that I’d like some kind of recognition of my 10th year of sobriety (hopefully coming up in about 14 months). I like commemorating accomplishments. The mere turning of the earth doesn’t satisfy that concept for me.
I recognize that this makes me a horrible person and a vicious monster. I don’t much care.