The First Noel
Well, the first New Year’s.
Honestly the first anything, really, without Momma.
I mean, I’ve had six and a half months of firsts. First day without her, first night without her, first week/month/season, etc.
Her first birthday not on the planet was pretty awful. That’s why I spent it in Orlando. And the day was still sucky AF, though I met Matt the next day and that ended up in me seeing New York for Christmas.
First Halloween sucked because she used to decorate the house so spectacularly. But even that kind of fizzled out bit by bit over the past couple years.
First Thanksgiving sucked but honestly I forget most of it. I know I went to DaDa, my happy place. But that time of year was always the anniversary of losing Grampy. And before that, it was celebrating, then mourning, his wedding anniversary. So, never my favorite time.
Christmas was HARD. I was kind of thinking I was OK but, nope.
At least I got back to Orlando, and much better weather, for Christmas.
Once again, I cried my way around the world, as I’d done in September, but this time without the rain to mask it.
So here I am at New Year’s. And honestly feeling a bit less worse than I expected.
There’s still the whole, “How on earth is there a year Mom and Cocoa weren’t alive in?! HOW??!!!”
But I did end up getting some pork and kraut. She’d normally want hot dogs, but I went with chicken sausage. And she’d normally prepare 10 sides to provide color and variety. I went with blackeyed peas and tossed the pork in to flavor them.
And none of Momma’s mashed potatoes, which were magical. So was her kraut. Mine was just OK. Just “arright,” as her mom would have said.
I didn’t take a pic of my plate. She would have been proud of me for trying, but she’d definitely say that monochromatic mess looks like a Cindy or a Kelly (not MY Kelly) special. Boring/bland/beige for the first and just plain weird for the second.
I wonder if Kelly (again not mine) is still making goofy cakes and shit. I miss peeking in on that social media. We definitely did the Statler & Waldorf thing, mom and me.
That’s what I’m missing most. Not the good food, though mine was definitely “arright” to her “holy shit, yum.” It’s the having some wine and cackling like two bitches.
She always called us two bitches. I think that might have originated with my grandmother over something arright. But I don’t really remember.
Anyway, I wouldn’t say it was my favorite holiday. But it wasn’t my worst, either. For that, I am grateful.