on holidays

Man, I… I’m sorry if maybe I’ve been a little bit overeager about the holidays.

Anya, she never really liked them, not the way I did. She’d just sort of get huffy and turn the music off whenever she’d get the chance. Or she’d talk about all those ‘other’ holidays that don’t get as much screentime, when it’s like... yeah those are awesome, but neither of us are Jewish enough for Hannukah or black enough for Kwanzaa. And both of those holidays are super-important to the people they belong to, you know? Of course they don’t get as much air time as Christmas, Christmas is the only holiday of the season that just about anyone can celebrate.

I haven’t really bothered to reach out to her this year like I always used to… what’s the point? What do you even get some high and mighty better-than-you vampire? Actually give her what she wants and paint a giant target on my back by taking her blood? Absolutely not. She used to bitch about me having no sense of survival instincts, well… turns out I do. They’re just highly tuned toward not dying in stupid ways like that.

… It must be so cloying. All this… blinding red and green, and the lights everywhere, like I’m trying to make something out of nothing.

I guess seeing Zerah experience the holiday through a pair of fresh eyes woke something up that’s been dying in me for a long time. The truth is, I always loved the holidays even if I didn’t like the cold so much. For as long as I can remember, they were one of the only times of year I would get to see Mom really, legitimately happy, and not… struggling. I still have every single one of the outfits she made us every year. Hell, I’m wearing one right now… it’s nice, right? She was a professional seamstress…

...Sorry, I’m getting off base again.

She was always so legitimately happy, and I guess it rubbed off. I loved the bright lights on houses and the trees in peoples’ windows and all the songs about joy and cheer. It got me excited the same way Halloween got Anya excited. Don’t get me wrong, I love that holiday too, but… it’s not the same to me, I guess? And… I know, I know, of course little kids love it, they love presents. I promise the presents always used to be the furthest thing from my mind. I liked giving more, I liked bringing a little bit of my happiness into other peoples’ lives.

That’s been slowly crushed lately, though… last year, I was utterly alone, and even before that, I couldn’t really celebrate the way I always wanted to… because of her, and her… cynicism. It made it… tough. Tough to really get into the spirit, when she’d get pissy any time I wanted to watch a cheesy Hallmark movie or bake cookies or listen to the music. And then, once she left, and I was left alone, I… didn’t see much of a point in even trying. To do anything, let alone celebrate.

But… then I started rebuilding a life for myself. Got a roommate, actual friends. I have a family again. It’s not perfect, and it’s maybe even a little bit weird, but… it’s mine, and I love every single one of you. So seeing those fresh eyes, I… felt something again. I felt like I needed to get up and decorate. Get Mom’s tree out of the back room, put up the garlands and lights. Maybe… try to actually do a Christmas card this year.

I’m sorry if it’s a little… much, all of a sudden.