Turns Out, We Have No Traditions (!!!)
This was the first year, in all our nearly 15 years together, that Charles and I spent Thanksgiving alone, just the two of us. In the last three years that we’ve lived in LA, we’ve broken bread (yeast rolls to be exact) with friends, and before that with my family. There’s something interesting that happens when you peel back everyone and everything: you see things you hadn’t before. Let me explain.
As Charles and I sat in our dining room, chewing on the (burnt…whoops!) stuffing and contemplating whether my turkey breast was actually cooked enough, we got to chatting about traditions. “What are ours?” one of us asked. It might have been me, but that beautiful thing happened where you end up losing sight of who said what because your conversation spirals in the best way and it all becomes a blur of feelings. “We don’t have any.” That last bit was 100% Charles, and he was right.
Don’t get me wrong. We have traditions, particularly around the holidays, but they all revolve around our extended family. When I used to spend practically every holiday at my sister’s house—our family hub for celebrations when we were all in Florida—our holiday traditions were really birthed around making the time of year as magical as possible for my twin nephews…and if I’m being honest, it was more about making it magical for us through the eyes of two little boys. Matching pajamas were purchased every year, with the yearly puffy-morning-face photo of all of us surrounded by a mountain of crumpled up wrapping paper. French toast was de rigueur for breakfast (it had to have fresh berries and pecans, btw).
Rewind to Thanksgiving weekend, and Friday was always tree day…man do I miss the tree lighting ceremony. My brother in law would always do a ridiculously overdramatic countdown—THREE! TWO! ONE! would echo throughout the house—after the tree was fully decorated and dusk fell, the impending nighttime fueling the glow of the lights in the branches.
There was always a lasagna made by me with fresh pasta sheets and my top secret béchamel sauce (it’s not top-secret, that just sounded better here) for Christmas Eve and a pernil on Christmas Day. Bellies aching from the sugar high of hot chocolate with marshmallows in our special Santa mugs always had to be had while watching The Polar Express. It was gloriously basic but special.
But here’s the thing: Like Charles so pointedly declared (his speciality), those traditions weren’t mine and his. They were mine, my sister’s and my nephews. What was OURS? What could we say, without a doubt, belonged uniquely to our little household of two? I know so often things like holiday traditions are cooked up by accident. Those are probably the best ones, honestly. Like how we like to watch Back to the Future II on October 21 while eating pizza, because we did that one year in 2015 when it was “Back to the Future Day” and then we kept trying to do it every year after and it’s something I look forward to. But beyond that…null. FIFTEEN YEARS AND WE HAVE NO TRADITIONS? That stops now.
Of course, as I write that, my brain fills in some gaps. “But what about the lobster and scallop dinner that has quickly become your go-to special occasion meal?” Yes, that’s something. And how “hot toddy season” has become a thing for us here in LA where it actually gets pretty chilly. So no, it’s not as bleak as I’m making it. HOWEVER, as I slathered cranberry sauce all over my too-dry turkey breast after I put it in the microwave to make sure I wasn’t giving us both food poisoning (not something I recommend doing), I made a proclamation. “I think we should take a photo. Today, and every Thanksgiving and Christmas, with whoever is with us. It can be *our* thing, and something really nice to have to look back to.” Charles, Mr. Give Me an Excuse to Take Out My Nikon, was game.
While a family photo isn’t exactly novel, it’s something that felt easy enough to implement right now. Something to look back on: “Ha remember that year we spent alone in LA because of a pandemic?” Or “OMG look how young we were!” or “WOW look at that apartment we had back then, I forgot about so-and-so detail.” We take so many photos on our phones that may never see the light of day, but the plan now is to take a high-quality photo (but without stressing about it because honestly who cares if the scene or my hair or whatever was perfect in 20 years) with whoever is with us and start making a book. A growing memory. Something I hope to be able to flip through with my kids one day and say “look how well rested mommy and daddy looked!”
Of course, a tradition is only real when you do it over and over again, so time will tell if this one sticks, but I really want it to. It’ll just be us again for Christmas (another first), so our chance to prove how serious we are about this is not far. Guys, I think we can do it…hold me accountable, alright? 😉
Now, to really home in on the mush factor that is this post, I’d LOVE to hear about your favorite family traditions. What do you do every year that you so look forward to? It doesn’t even have to be holiday related. I just want to hear stories and feel all warm and fuzzy.
And….go!