And so it begins

In the States, Thanksgiving kicks off the holiday season of shopping and fretting and families being too close or too far and decorating and various festivities that keep you from sinking into a winter slump, which you find eventually anyway. Here in Bulgaria there is no Thanksgiving and thus no official "kickoff" of Christ-Kwanz-Hannak-mas. The holiday season slowly trickles in without much enthusiasm or hurry or excitement. More than anything in Bulgaria, the first cold week just ushers in sick season, which last until March and then slowly morphs into vacation season. Christmas is in there some place.

Christmas is the only holiday I really cherish. I blame it on my parents, but (for once) in a good way. My memory of my childhood was that we rarely received presents outside of Christmas and our birthdays, but the abundance of everything at those times always made up for the delays. Christmas was always, regardless of our financial situation, filled with food and gifts and warmth. The house was decorated from floor to ceiling in mistletoe and mini villages and a tree that held a piece of our family history in every ornament. Friends and family popped in and out of the house - bringing treats, taking treats; sharing laughs and stories and kindness. I remember my parents' house being an active, crazy, loving, non-stop holiday fest.

Every family has their holiday traditions. Most of mine are gone. My parents have separated and remarried, my sister has her own family and I am here in a semi-developed nation that's figured out high speed internet, but not a safe and reliable water supply. Forget Bailey's-spiked hot chocolate. Thanksgiving this year was spent with friends and friends of friends - fun and loving people that I know with varying degrees of closeness. Fun was had, food was eaten, drinks were surely drank, but something was missing. This was not a tradition and it wasn't even the start of one - we'll most likely never do this with each other again. It was a party to cover up the lack of a holiday that covers up pending seasonal doom. The Band-Aid's Band-Aid.

This weekend reminded me of how much I miss. I miss letting my mom be the matriarch and plan everything. I miss being in a sea of people that know me deeply and personally. I miss jumping all day and into the night from personal conversation to personal conversation. I miss making snotty side comments to my sister. I miss pulling my mom aside to figure out what someone's deal is. I miss the rhythm people have with one another - the one that comes only from years of closeness and countless trials and tribulations. I miss longevity and traditions - knowing what to expect and depending on it.

I think this is the time in my life where I'm supposed to make my own family in the traditional 2.5 kids sense or in a more alternative sense. I've always thought of close friends as my chosen family, but we don't live in a stationary world or all share the same 'families' which provides some obstacles. All this means that just as the cold season approaches with its sickness and mental weight, one learns that looming problems are not so looming. Ah, winter.

This is where we go forward. We've changed and moved and grown. We wanted to. We needed to. We know we can never truly go home again. It's our relief and burden. We're learning to live with it... slowly. So slowly. In the meantime, we seek and enjoy laughter and love ...and hope the season passes quickly.