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On the Holidays

 I think the holidays can be brutal -- and I think the enforced cheeriness, or faux-cheeriness, can be especially brutal.


That's why I am grateful to one particular Maplewood Mom -- who just wrote one of my all-time favorite personal essays, then pasted it on Facebook, for the world to see. I'm going to paraphrase the story here.

It's Night Eight of Hanukkah, and my husband just gave me my gift. He gave me a cheese-grater.

Last night, Night Seven, he gave me a single cookie sheet.

He was gone for Nights Two to Six, and I chose and presented appropriate gifts to the children, and I also selected thoughtful "spousal" gifts.

I'm going to put my grater away now, then I will ugly-cry in the shower.

This isn't about materialism. It's about being seen and known by my spouse.

I believe that this is a perfect piece of writing--immediately connecting with an entire world of readers--and I love the cool blast of truthfulness in each sentence.

I tip my hat to this writer.
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