Christmas

Christmas hits different now than when I was a kid. I remember going to bed early on Christmas Eve, too excited to sleep because I’d get to wear new clothes in the morning? Man, nothing beats that feeling!

These days, it’s not quite the same. I’m at home and there’s rice, chicken, and new clothes, but I can’t channel the same excitement.

So I’ve been sitting here thinking: how do you find yuletide joy as an adult? Not the wild excitement from when we were kids, but maybe something else. Something that dismisses all my worries about next year and lets me be grateful for what I have right now.

I’ve sent “Merry Christmas” messages to so many people today, all over the world. From Anambra to Boston, everyone’s in a different city. Some with family, most not. It’s hard to feel like we’re all together, but we try.

My brother organized a family photoshoot yesterday, and then we had lunch. My sister couldn’t make it, but his wife did. A bunch of familiar strangers will visit the house today, and we’ll eat, play and watch TV. Tomorrow we’ll unbox the packages under the tree, and then go out to see a play.

I started writing this essay partly to break my hiatus, but also to find joy by doing something I’ll always love: publishing.

Christmas. An ever-changing tradition that meets me wherever I am. A privilege that I may not be able to truly appreciate, but one that exists nonetheless.

They say the best way to help yourself through something is to help someone else. So if you’re reading this today, I wish you great joy. The kind that comes from newness and connection and community, however far dispersed.

Merry Christmas. And a happy new year in advance!