I’m going to try and notice the little things during this weird holiday.
The smell of the Christmas tree, making it’s way through my mask, as I sit across the room from my parents, a chilled breeze blowing through the open windows.
It’s the strangest of years. We won’t be able to hug each other after opening each gift (a tradition my anti-hugger fiance will be glad to get a respite from) and we won’t be sharing Mom’s famous breakfast casserole. We’ve decided the risks are just too great not to take precautions.
But despite this being different than any other year, it’s still up to me whether I enjoy it or not. It’s still up to me to revel in the fact that my family is still together, albeit in strange fashion, for yet another consecutive year.
And because it’s up to me, I think I’ll choose to appreciate the little things. To not let the weight of the moment drag down what is still a magical time.