Christmas Traditions I'll Never Do Again

one: 'tis the season

"That's the true spirit of Christmas; people being helped by people other than me."

~Jerry Seinfeld

~~

There's something about Christmas that always reminds people of home. Of cuddling up by the fire, or playing in the snow, or building gingerbread houses.

But for me, Christmas reminds me of this one time I hid in a pile of wrapping paper to scare my sister and almost got thrown into a fire. Or a time when I almost got robbed by the old woman ringing the Salvation Army bell outside of Walmart.

That's why I don't like Christmas. Or old people.

But ever since my nieces stayed with me for a few months, all I've been hearing is "COME OVER FOR CHRISTMAS!"

Considering that they know my holiday plans usually include peppermint ice cream and doom scrolling, I don't have much of an excuse to say no.

So I'm waiting in an airport, sweltering beneath a long coat that looks like I'm three people stacked on top of each other, trying to disguise myself as one.

Aimee, as usual, isn't picking up her phone, so I dial Finn's number to fill the time.

He's spending Christmas in England, probably drinking tea and eating something made with pig's blood or something while his family talks about British literature.

He offered to stay in town so we could spend the holidays together, even though his sister is getting engaged, but I told him I was looking forward to the whole ice cream-and-doom-scrolling thing.

It did not go as planned.

"I wish I lived in Austria," I say wistfully.

"Why's that?" Finn asks. I can hear him setting down his cup into its saucer. The familiar sound makes me grin.

"Because they have a Krampus, which is like the evil twin of Santa who punishes bad children on Christmas. So they have people dress up in devil costumes who roam the streets with chains and baskets to abduct kids and take them to Hades."

"And I assume you want to be that person in the devil costume?"

"You know me so well."

"But how far would you have to carry them in order to get to Hades?"

I frown. "Good point. Too much work. Maybe I'll just sit on my porch and watch."

My phone buzzes against my ear and I see Aimee's text saying that they've arrived at baggage claim.

"That's Aimee, gotta go," I say, hauling my carry-on across my shoulder. "Merry Christmas. Drink some pig's blood for me."

"I...er, I will, Beverly. Happy Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, ya filthy animal."

I tuck my phone into my pocket and make my way straight through baggage claim because the only baggage I carry is emotional.

When I exit into the freezing Colorado air, Aimee's minivan is waiting for me.

Three heads are sticking out the window, hollering like a cat that's been set on fire.

"Hiiiiiii Aunt Bev!" they shout.

I find myself beaming from ear to ear as I wave.

Aimee, after commanding them to stay in the car, gets out of her seat to greet me.