
When I was little, even though I was an only child, the holidays were steeped in traditions. At some point, my mother worked every Christmas eve and Christmas night as a nurse and my father and I would wait up for her until she came home at around 1 am on Christmas morning.
Every year, we’d drink the same greek pink sparkly wine that came in a special clay bottle and ate canapés I had made while waiting for her. We’d open our presents, 2 each, then go to bed.
Such a small celebration, but so comforting because it was our small family ritual.
Later my parents would come to my house in RI and bring with them my dad’s fois gras, duck breast, good wine and my mom’s dessert all the way from Quebec.
More comforting ritual.
Now that my dad passed away and I live so far from home, I created my own small family ritual. I never though much about it and did those to comfort myself since I move so much all the time, but as my kids get older they started to also be comforted by my holiday rituals.
The way we pick up the tree the week before Christmas and decorate in a very orderly fashion, always with Christmas classical music and eggnog. How we always make a gingerbread house that my youngest son always decorate. How I read then a story from my French advent Christmas book every night in December. How I make a Buche de Noel for Christmas dinner every year, and how we watch the old A Christmas Carol movie every Christmas eve.
It’s strange but it has gotten to the point where when I try to skip one thing, they ask me about it and make sure I don’t forget. I know that in some way those small ritual are comforting to them.
I something wish I could be home and that they could be with our family in Quebec, but I’m creating new holiday memories for them.
Stay Awesome,
M-C XOXOX
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