'tis the season.

I've never been the type to get geeky or excited over festive occasions or the stereotypical contagious spirit of the holidays. It seems fairly odd since much of my work revolves around events and gatherings throughout the year to celebrate and be festive, but I don't feel the need to acknowledge a holiday or changing of the season by decorating profusely or color coordinating my duds.

This is somewhat due to the fact that I still go home to my parents house to celebrate each of the major holidays, and I'm sure I'll change a bit when I have children of my own and the avenue of excitement is different...but in my life now, I experience festivity in a different way because I accept and celebrate these occasions in an uncharacteristic vein.

And I am thankful for that. I am.

As I've mentioned in previous posts, Thanksgiving is the primary holiday at our house and we do have the traditional meal combined with our own legendary traditions which are festive, no doubt. And I admit, I've been known to make a good ole "hand turkey" out of construction paper as lately as a year ago and I live to watch the trees change colors signifying the arrival of fall.

But my festive spirit for this season comes to life in the simplest of moments, in a sensory overload kind of way: in the sweet sound of chaos in a house slammed full of loud & merry strangers and friends alike...smelling like a fine mix between smoke from a bonfire and cow manure lingering on my shoe...sitting on the back of a wagon with 40+ people not just noticing, but seeing and getting lost in the same stars that dot that same dark sky every single night.

And I appreciate that. I do.

Since about the age of 17, our Christmases have not been about the gifts, they've been about being together at home. My immediate family has organized a lunch in our town to feed the less fortunate on Christmas Day, we've had a "Pay It Forward Christmas" where we pledged good deeds for the upcoming year in honor of each other and this year we are all coming to the table with a charity of our choice and together, choosing one to donate to as a gift from the family. This "mentality" that my parents have created around this day is a gift in itself.

Much of the typical Christmas spirit comes from the rush of the malls, beautiful bows on gifts and the loot under the tree...I recognize it, but I don't "get it". I don't "get it" because those things don't matter to me. Besides the obligation I feel to give back during this season, festivity comes alive when I get home and walk through that back door. In that moment I realize, and am overcome with appreciation, that we all have several days, an excused amount of time, to be at home...together. That's all. To not leave if we don't want, never wash our hair, never put on a bra or pair of shoes, we can cook & eat whatever we'd like, have dance parties around the kitchen table, play scrabble and cards til 2 am, host old friends and new friends, play guitar & sing...simply be ourselves. Be ourselves, together.

And I wouldn't trade that for the world. Nope, I won't.

I could write for days about the real meaning of this and the purpose of that, but I find great peace in realizing I am in the minority. The minority that doesn't "catch" the stereotypical festive spirit of the holidays...that same spirit that seems to offer an empty nothing after the twenty fifth of december year after year.

And with that, I am at peace. I am.