Making Tracks
By Kat Bryant
Thanksgiving’s L-tryptophan has worn off, we’re all waking up and driving home in the dark, and the rainy season has begun in earnest.
Welcome to the most wonderful time of the year!
No, really.
I’m not one to go all Chevy Chase with blinky lights and inflatable Santas; I haven’t even bought a tree in years. I have a trunk full of old family decorations, but the only thing I unpack these days is my cute 18-inch-tall Charlie Brown Christmas tree.
And yet, despite all evidence to the contrary, I do get the warm fuzzies in December.
My family is not religious, but we’ve always treated Christmas as The Family Holiday. It’s our time to bake and eat cookies together, to play our favorite card and board games together, to get out and commune with nature together, to cook and enjoy a feast together.
When my brother and I were young, we’d spend a few days every Christmas with grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins in the Northeast. If we lived within a 10-hour drive, we’d take a road trip; if not, we’d fly. But one way or another, we’d be with family on Dec. 25 — and we looked forward to it every year.
Later, as Jeff and I moved away and started our own lives, we’d still fly back to the nest every year to spend a week with Mom and Dad — no matter what our circumstances. If we had other offers, we’d decline. If we needed financial help to get there, our folks made it happen. Nothing stood between Mom and her children (and, later, her grandson) on Christmas! It was inconceivable.
And so it went, until Jeff and I were in our 40s and my son had left the nest. Around the time Jeff married Roel, things began to get tricky because Roel’s very large Catholic family also gathers every Christmas. Parents, brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles, cousins — dozens of people, all together, once a year.
At that point, Mom initiated a new tradition. She decided it wasn’t worth haggling over specific dates with Jeff’s in-laws in Texas, whom we all love. So, since then, we Bryants have celebrated The Family Holiday during the third week of January.
Starting that year, Mom and Dad would rent a large house in a warm winter birdwatching area — usually Florida or Arizona — and we’d all gather there for the week. We went on almost daily bird walks, rode airboats in the Everglades, woke up to javelinas outside our windows near Tucson, and just generally enjoyed hanging out together.
There were several additional perks to this decision. We no longer had to worry about heavy traffic or inflated holiday airfares. We didn’t have to negotiate with co-workers over holiday time off. And, with the new year, we generally had more vacation days to use.
In 2018, our tradition went on hiatus as Mom’s health deteriorated; she passed that April. In January 2019, Dad rented a place in South Texas near Roel’s family, and we included them in our holiday celebration.
Next month, Dad will be preparing to sell his house in Virginia so he can move into the place he bought in Sequim last month. This will mark the first time we’ve all lived in the same state (or, for that matter, the same half of the country!) since Jeff and I were teenagers. It also means we probably won’t resume our holiday trips south.
However, I will be flying down to California to spend that third week of January with my son. In addition to having him introduce me to his favorite places and things to do there, I’ll finally get to meet and spend some time with his significant other’s family.
No one stands between this mom and her son for The Family Holiday. This is a Bryant tradition I intend to keep going.
Kat Bryant is lifestyle editor of The Daily World and editor of Washington Coast Magazine. She might get around to putting up her Charlie Brown tree this week. Reach her at kbryant@thedailyworld.com or on Facebook at Kat Bryant-DailyWorld.
