Changing Tradition

I moved to Oklahoma when I was 19 years old.  I had never been here before, but my boyfriend (who later became a Computer Guy) assured me that it was a beautiful place and I would love it.   He was right.  I quickly fell in love, but not with the state.  I fell in love with his family.

His relatives were a fairy-tale come true for a girl whose own family was far from ideal.  They were close knit, kind, and welcoming.  I’ll never forget that first Christmas with them which looked as if a Hallmark card had come to life..  I couldn’t wait to be a part of this family…long before he had even proposed.

I can’t believe it’s almost over.  For 17 years, I have been privileged to spend Christmas Eve with his family.  Everyone brings the same dish every year.  They reminisce about the same stories.  They are blessed with the normality which they all take for granted.  Even the years I didn’t want to go, I wanted to be there.

This is our last Christmas in Oklahoma surrounded by family.  Next year, we will be in Dallas. The reality of it is that we will not be traveling at Christmas with 6 children.  The traveling is bad enough, but none of his relatives have enough room for us all.  It’s our last Okie Christmas.

  It will just be the eight of us at Mass, at dinner, and around the tree.   I once dreamed of a quiet holiday.  Now the thought of it just makes me sad and all the more determined to soak up this one last year.

I’ve been cooking like a crazy woman for the last few days.   I’ve been working so hard to create a “perfect” Christmas. (Even though I know that such a thing doesn’t exist.)  I’ve been trying to create traditions all at once with my children so that we have something to carry us through the holidays next year.  I’ve been trying to create something to fill the hole which will be there when we leave his family behind.

Change is scary and often unwelcome, but it can be beneficial, too.  Instead of relying on aunts, grandmas and cousins, we’re learning to rely on ourselves.  It’s the final bit of growing up.   Who knew adulthood was wrapped in tinsel, lights, and peanut brittle?

Next year, the traditions are ours….whatever we want them to be.