As we grow up, family dynamics will shift. It’s inevitable. As each sibling, cousin, or family member finds their own path and grows into themselves, families will change and evolve with them. No one notices this more than the youngest child, who often has to watch all the birds leave the nest before them. And, speaking from experience, living in an empty nest can feel a little lonely sometimes.
Although these feelings don’t linger for long or appear often, the end-of-the-year holidays rolling around once more have made me nostalgic for a time that now feels a little out of my reach.
My family has never been big. I’m an only child, and I can count my cousins on my fingers; so, as they’ve grown up, moved away, or started their own families, the number of people present at family gatherings has shrunk. Thanks to social media, it’s not like I’ve lost complete contact with them. I’m aware they’ll be there in case of an emergency, we still text each other every now and again on special days, and most importantly, I know they’re okay. A few of my cousins still make it to every get-together, and that familiar joy always fills the room when we’re together.
Even so, as the youngest cousin, sometimes I find myself feeling caught in the in-between — old enough to remember the noise and chaos, but young enough to still long for it. Like Taylor Swift’s song “right where you left me” best puts it, I’m “still at the restaurant,” waiting for the day we might all reunite. On holidays like Thanksgiving especially, I’m reminded of this fact a lot more.
I’m almost done with college now — my path at the University of Puerto Rico is almost over. And although I’m excited to begin the next stage of my own life, I can’t help but still miss the way things used to be.
Because of these reasons, the holidays have lost their charm over the years. I could blame it on the fact that I’m older, and so days like Christmas aren’t as magical anymore. However, this isn’t the reason why the festivities have lost their charm; It’s the loss of that togetherness that exists when everyone gathers and celebrates the holiday season. Singing along to Puerto Rican Christmas music, gossiping with my favorite cousins, sharing what new things we learned or became obsessed with between the weeks we spent apart… these were all part of what made the upcoming festivities so special.
The holiday season meant I got a glimpse beyond the smallness of my immediate family.
So, what does “home” mean once everyone’s gone? Well, although everything’s different now, I’ve found a few ways to make peace with these changes:
- Redefine closeness: This includes finding a new version of “togetherness,” one that’s just as meaningful. Proximity doesn’t equal closeness, after all. Even though we’re apart and figuring out who we are away from each other, we’re not any less of a family.
- Embrace change: I’m learning to see that there’s a quiet beauty in watching everyone build their own lives. I’m sure our eventual family reunions will be even more precious, knowing we’ll have so much more to share and new family members to welcome to the table.
- Appreciate the present: The family might be a little smaller now, but that doesn’t make it any less special. My aunts, uncles and grandparents show up for every party, every holiday, every birthday, and every single one of my successes. I couldn’t have better cheerleaders or supporters.
I don’t like to dwell on the past for long though. And now that I’ve allowed myself this brief moment in time to reflect and reminisce on what the holidays used to look like, I’m ready to focus on the brighter days ahead. So I’ll be sure to celebrate the upcoming holidays as intended: with gratitude for what I had, excitement for what’s to come, and a plate full of my aunt’s homemade pasteles.