For the last two years my guy and I have thrown away all our previous traditions of celebrating Christmas when it's just the two of us. We've both devoted our entire lives to making other people happy during the holidays, and I have had nothing but horrible luck during mine, so we think we've earned it. This year we went wandering again, did a few interesting things, and ended up walking the beach at Daytona.
It was cold, almost entirely deserted and quiet. The ocean was fairly rough but the sound of the waves crashing was music to my ears. At times I felt as if the world had turned into a giant opal. I took pics with my phone and sent them to Kat, who sent back pictures of her island where she was hiking with her boyfriend and his mother.
We came across the Florida version of a snow man, which made us both laugh. Then we decided not to look for a place to eat dinner, came home and ate leftovers from Christmas Eve. Perfect end to what is usually a terrible day for me.
I am trying to keep that promise I made last year, and honestly my lifelong hatred of the holidays is easing up a bit. That's not because of the promise (which, I admit, was along the lines of that promise you make to God to go back to church if God saves your ass.) I really have chosen to take back the holidays from all the awful memories I have of them, and try to make some new, better, happier ones. It's working.
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