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It’s December 23rd. Today, there are people starting their Christmas shopping, finishing their shopping, gloating about being done, making last-minute plans to make the most of their time off, heading to the airport to pick up friends or family, heading to the airport to escape the winter, and anything and everything in between. This time of year brings big family gatherings, office Christmas parties, bad holiday movie marathons, and everything in between. There are terrible renditions of every conceivable Christmas carol on the radio, and new Christmas songs popping up every year (though I don’t know why because Mariah Carey wins the Christmas album contest now and forever).

Families with small children are making last minute preparations for the logistics of Santa’s visit tomorrow night, and families with grown children are (sometimes) still trying to keep the magic of Santa alive. Couples (in real life and on TV) are building traditions and making memories, and everyone is attempting to make this one the Best. Christmas. Ever. Maybe it will be, maybe it won’t. But people who have people to spend the holidays with are the luckiest people. This time is supposed to be about togetherness, and family and sharing love with the people we care about.

But for people who don’t have anyone besides family to spend the holidays with, this can be a time of profound sadness and isolation. It’s hard, sometimes, to see people making plans with and buying gifts for their spouses and fiancé(e)s and partners. Getting Christmas cards from friends and their others is nice, but it’s also a sometimes painful reminder of what you don’t have.

I am 31. I am single and have been for a long time. I spend Christmas with my parents, sleeping at their house for a few nights and just enjoying the company of the two most important people in my life. But spending time with them is sometimes not enough. On Christmas morning, when we exchange our few gifts (book and socks, mostly), they give each other Christmas cards and I sometimes feel a little pang for what I don’t have. Not much has changed in our family Christmas celebration. I still sit on the floor in front of the tree and pass gifts to my folks, and start reading the books I’ve been given, getting distracted by the words on the page.

Even though we spend the Christmas in the same house, not much has changed since I lived with my parents – my mom watches TV in one room, and my dad in the other. I usually sit in the room with my dad because he watches stuff I watch, and I can just sort of be there.

TV and movies and commercials will tell me that in order to fully enjoy the holidays, I need to have someone in my life. I have no one to come home to. No one to help me decorate the house for Christmas, or make a quick run to the grocery store because I forgot (for the third time in two days) to pick up apples for dessert, or to wrap presents and take parcels to the post office. It all falls squarely on my shoulders to make sure that I get all the stuff done that needs doing.

And somehow it feels like I’m doing it all wrong.

Many friends of mine are married and have kids and have other families to spend their time with. They’ve built really cool traditions within their families so that everyone on both sides gets a chance to be together. They have the chance to be part of something bigger than just themselves, which is a nice thing to have. I just have my parents, which is enough for me, for now.

Being alone isn’t something that I’m unfamiliar with. I’ve spent a large part of my adult life doing things for me, on my own terms, and alone. There are a lot of things a person can get away with if they don’t have to answer to anyone else’s demands on them or their time. I don’t mind, not really. I like having the independence to make decisions for what’s important and what’s not, but sometimes it’d be nice to have someone to curl up with on the couch and watch bad Christmas movies, or listen to Mariah Carey on repeat, or whatever.

So tonight, as I sit by my Christmas tree, I can’t help but wonder if things would be better if I had someone. Different, sure. But better? Maybe they would, maybe not; I don’t know, but I suppose it doesn’t do much good to play pretend.