When I was growing up my parents always selected holidays as the time to do something incredibly fucked up to each other other. My 21st birthday was no exception.
As a result, I've always been very bah-humbug about all holiday celebrations.
You'd think I'd be super excited about having no plans for Easter this year.
By now we all know that I'm a contrary bitch.
Easter has always been the only exception to my holiday hatred. I love Easter. Absolutely love it. I have no idea why.
My parents separated for the first time on Easter Sunday when I was twelve. It was one of the most traumatic events I'd experienced to date. I remember crying bitterly into my plate of Easter ham in Crazytown that evening. I haven't been able to eat ham since.
Regardless, I love Easter. Every single part of it. Even the gross commercialized parts... except Peeps. No one likes Peeps.
This year I'll be spending Easter alone, and I'm sort of beside myself about it. I'll go to an early mass, and I have to work in the morning, which is fine, but then nothing. I don't have plans for Easter dinner. My mother has chosen to spend the holiday out of town with her boyfriend. TheFish is, of course, still away at school.
Its weird, and very fitting in a sad-girl kind of way, that I will be alone with my dog on the one holiday that I actually enjoy.
Maybe this is a good thing. Maybe it is past time for me to figure out how to be outside of my family and my obligations.
Besides, if I'm alone no one can judge me for drinking too much wine.
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