And I agree with that tiny mean-spirited voice. Well mostly... except, February and March are the hard months. In Seattle they are the months of grey and rain. No twinkly lights shining. No freshly baked cookie smells drifting through the house. No traditions to bind us. Who does something warm and cozy annually on Martin Luther King day? Or in the spirit of recent political events, something fiery and memorable and political?
"If this is a holiday what do we do?" asked my five year old son when I explained MLK Day. I don't know what to tell him. Nor about George Washington's birthday either.
I believe that the holidays are meant to sustain us as we journey through darkness. All winter long, while we worry about how much screen time our tiny humans are getting when they refuse to go outside because of the weather and when we are going to tear our hair out because we've all been cooped up all day eating carbs - we can look back and remember.
The holidays anchor us.
When we photograph the ordinary rhythms of our life, we embrace life's goodness. We tell our overloaded tired brain, this is important. This is what it's all about. This is why I work so hard and why I drive such a long commute.
Photographs of our nearest and dearest in their pjs and cuddled up on lazy boy chairs by the fire play in our heads as we pack up Monday morning and leave the house before dark.
It's my mantra.
We have family who loves us. We have friends who know us, who give us good gifts, who laugh with us. We have children who can be filled with joy. Someday spring will come and it will be easy again.
Until then, we have our memories.