It’s the afternoon of December 27th and I am still wearing the pyjamas I put on on Christmas Eve. In normal times we would have seen my family and Shawn’s family on Christmas Day and Boxing Day but these are not normal times. We have been doing family Zoom calls and FaceTimes and there was a brief driveway drop-off of gifts but there has been no reason to get out of our pyjamas. This is the year of Pyjama Christmas and we are embracing it wholeheartedly.
It’s a weird year, yes, but not a bad one for us. We are housed and employed and relatively safe as long as we stay within our bubble. I am exhausted from all the gratitude I have been practicing, I promise. But I’m also leaving a little room for the sadness too. I miss the noise and chaos and overwhelming love of being together with my whole family. I miss seeing the exchange of joy when my kids spend time with their grandparents. I miss the connection. We’re so lucky to have the technology and the means to connect virtually, I know, but I miss hugs. I’m not even that much of a hugger! This is what 2020 has turned me into.
I’m not complaining, I’m just acknowledging that this year is messy and I’m happy/sad. I’m enjoying all of the time spent with my family and I’m craving five solid minutes of complete silence. I’m cozy in my pyjamas and wishing I had a reason to get dressed and leave my house. I’m grateful everyone in my family has stayed healthy and terrified that won’t remain the case before we’re all able to get vaccinated. I’m overthinking it all is what I’m saying, and I am so tired.