The days before the holidays/ Holidays march on as they all do. The tractor-pull of family gatherings gives over to the polarity of health and safety. Perhaps that dynamic has always been there for some. Now we have the ‘excuse’ of the plague to not visit the people we share blood with for a ritualized meal. A ritualized coming together that for some has never been safe. For some the ‘masks’ have always been present. Squinting eyes, forced smiles hiding the truth of feelings about being here, coming all this way, going to all this effort, cooking for days, back breaking efforts for the ungrateful.
Words never spoken and preferences never voiced. The 364-day-a-year vegan eats the flesh of their feelings to appease their family who have ‘worked so hard’, not to displease them one day per year. Not to be seen or accepted, inconveniencing the others. Feel the love, drink the cheer, count the hours, call the Uber to take it all away again. Safe home. Safe. Risking their lives to travel ‘home’ to risk their inner lives. Rinse and repeat.
Reflections only. Not my reality. Yet. I look ahead to Christmas and wonder what my choice will be? To rail at people who can’t stay home via social media memes and then be the person who travels a great distance to be with my family? Believing that they won’t have the disease to pass like so many colourfully wrapped gifts? Let’s play pass the present.
I wonder about this holiday season in Covid times. It has never been safe for some and now it is dangerous for all.