This time of year has always brought me such bliss and warmth. Nothing can compare to a piping hot cup of tea in your winter cracked hands while you sit in a room filled with the people you love. It seems like there is magic in the air as the weeks lead up to those few days and those fleeting hours are spent cozy and comfortable.
As the years go on, however, I am plagued by the notion that the traditions that me and my family know now, will not always be. My sisters and I are getting older, we are building lasting relationships with other people, and we therefore feel compelled to spend portions of the holiday season with them. No longer are the days of matching footy pajamas as we three bound up the stairs, only to lightly slumber in hopes of getting a glimpse of the man in red and white. No longer are the mornings spent ogling over the tree piled high with presents, and little nibbles from Mr. Clause’s cookies. No longer are we awake when the moon is still high in the sky and we jump on our parents bed to “wake up!” No longer are the Christmas Eve’s spent snuggled up watching “White Christmas,” and singing Christmas carols around the piano.
We are changing.
Our traditions are changing.
Part of me wishes I knew how precious those few years were of it just being the five of us. Soon my sisters will be married and have families and traditions of their own to uphold. Maybe I too will have all of those things.
But for now, I am only consumed by life’s uncertainties.