December has me feeling melancholy again this year.
My sister, the one who had the baby on Valentine's Day, is loving creating memories with her son, and she's loving sending me pictures so that I can share the experience. Which I love. And I hate. I really am so happy for her that she got her much wanted baby and that she's creating traditions with him. But damn. Every picture leaves me with an intense sense of longing. I'm not going to lie, it's an unwelcome reminder of what might have been if things had worked out differently. I don't know if this will ever go away.
This has made me think a lot about traditions. And how hubs and I don't really have any. We put up a Christmas tree and decorate it. We send out holiday cards (which are a big hit again this year, based on early feedback). We have a few little decorations that we put up around the house. We have a Christmas countdown calendar. But it doesn't feel magical like Christmas felt when I was a kid. It doesn't feel fun or festive. It doesn't feel anything.
But I also think that traditions can't be forced, that they just kind of happen the first time and then are repeated over time. So I don't know. I guess we have the next forty years or so to fall into some traditions for the two of us.
In the meantime, we'll spend this coming weekend doing Christmas with my family and next weekend doing Christmas with his. Survival will be the name of the game. Then Christmas will be at home, and hopefully we'll manage to have some fun and make some memories.
I hate how this month makes me feel.