Yeah, in my last post I attempted in vain to be all self-affirming and positive in the new year.
Here’s the context: I have a horrible cold, our daughter has pink eye, our son is recovering from the bug that probably gave her pink eye, and we spent the holidays with each other, our little nuclear family, which was lovely, but I miss my family terribly.
We “face timed” with them, and I watched my nieces eat their grilled cheese sandwiches or sit in my mom’s lap, and they watched our girl do cartwheels on the front lawn and our son ride his bike down the sidewalk. And when we ended our little iPad session I wanted to cry.
My mother-in-law was here for a week, during half of Hanukkah, and that was also lovely, but it’s just not the same as being around my brother and sister and in-laws and nieces and nephews and my parents at Christmastime.
I baked Hello Dolly bars, because they remind me of home. I would have made popovers, too (a Christmas morning tradition) but I didn’t have the right style baking tin.
My husband knows this is a mopey time for me, and is sorry we aren’t having some big social event at our home, some kind of gathering — some kind of anything to make all the pretty decorations in our house, to make our home’s overall cozy and inviting vibe, to make this Hindu’s need to honor the season, not all be in vain.
But they are, sometimes, in vain. One’s efforts. My efforts.
It’s a yucky feeling.
Or maybe it’s just my cold.