Till Next Year.

The love for family.
A necessary evil.
As tasking as a man’s love for women.
A pinch he can live without.
An itch he wouldn’t want to live without.
Everyone travelling miles on the highway, 
coming together to celebrate the holidays.
The excitement of being together,
which soon begins to feel like cross examination
of everything you’ve done wrong since last November.
The excitement of coming together 
Which soon becomes an obligation
to upset the never quiet, always demanding, Aunt Heather.
The love of family.
A candle only enticing the first day. 
Yesterday, surrounded by people that looked like me,
Sipping whiskey, I heard a wise man say:
“if you want a reminder, 
why you couldn’t wait to move out of your parent’s house, 
go visit for the holidays and they’d be sure to remind you.”