dear mom,
We're entering the holiday season once again. I've done 22 of these without you already - what's 1 (to 49) more?
I still remember some of my phases. I think it took me awhile to process the emptiness in the beginning. The holidays were never really a big big deal to us. We did put up a tree, and you made efforts to buy gifts "from Santa" to wrap and place under the tree, but it's not like there were clear traditions stored in my memories. I tried to maintain and create some traditions with Dad - continuing to put up our fake tree with the same ornaments we've always had, Christmas-y dinners, an exchange of presents - but it didn't stick. I started to just tell people, "My family doesn't do gifts," to recuse myself from having to talk about anything related to Christmas.
There was a long period of time following when I hated the holidays. I hated Thanksgiving and Christmas and New Year's and then my birthday all smushed together in one long cold and dark blur. I hated that they were always so lonely in contrast to the big family friend dinners we used to host or go to when you were alive and surrounded by friends. I hated that everyone around me had things to look forward to and enjoyed their time with their families. It wasn't enough that I was mourning you, but the holidays brought mourning for my remaining relatives that couldn't be who I needed them to be. When I moved out of North Carolina, I began to find small glimmers of holiday joy - being invited to dinner celebrations with my friends' families, gatherings with my friends before we all dispersed.
I think in childhood, having almost no models of nontraditional families felt incredibly isolating. Entering adulthood, I started to appreciate and find comfort in my friend communities. Mom, I extra wish you could be around now. I almost look forward to these holiday months now because it means Friendsgivings and White Elephants and the occasional trip. It's less lonely this way, and once I finally do go home, I look forward to watching movies with Alfred.
This year, I took an extra few days off to visit a friend in London. I would've sent you so many pictures. You probably would've requested it, and you probably would've enjoyed it. So you could probably forward my pictures to your friends the way Dad does too.
I wouldn't have you over for dinner just before leaving. My eating habits get really desperate in these times of scarcity. Before I leave, it's all about cleaning my fridge of any remaining perishables. This time I had a container of firm tofu and half a jar of homemade tomato sauce, so I made a riff on mapo tofu with the last bit of my doubanjang. You'd probably like this dish, Mom. It's like a mellower mapo. I also crisped up a little handful of cheddar with a spoonful of fermented chili and cracked an egg right over it for a nice side of chili cheese runny egg. You might like this egg too... or you might find the cheese too oily, I don't know.
I wouldn't have you over for dinner just after coming home, either. It usually takes me a few days to get it together enough to go grocery shopping. Tonight is my first full night back and I found some solace in the slow but not difficult process of making a deconstructed miso pesto pasta. Egg noodles rolled out with my pasta maker that I display on my shelf for easy access. A blob of miso thinned out with a bit of pasta water. Toasted pine nuts. Fresh basil cut from my plant that nearly died while I was away. Minced raw garlic with a kick. Chili oil for another kind of kick. You might enjoy this one, but you might also find the noodles to be too bouncy. Were you picky about noodles?
miss you through this jetlag fog,
Amelia
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