The Afghan I Didn’t Want: A Christmas I’ll Never Forget

How a long drive, a missing tradition, and a single gift taught me what matters most

Photo by Kari Shea on Unsplash

I didn’t know it at the time, but the Christmas I dreaded most gave me the gift I’d treasure the longest.

California Christmas Traditions

It’s Christmas morning, and I sit on the floor in my grandparents’ living room. The room is filled with people and a sea of wrapping paper. My paternal grandparents, parents, aunts and uncles, three siblings, twelve cousins, and I are crammed into a three-bedroom house in Porterville, California. When I am finished opening my presents, I enjoy watching everyone else open theirs. I am careful to keep my gifts close so they are not lost under the paper.

This memory could be from any Christmas in the 1970s. Most years, that’s where we were. I have no idea how we all fit in that small house, but I know we spent the night there. My grandparents had an empty lot next to their home, and some years, you might find people sleeping in campers parked in this area.

Now that I am an adult, I understand that couples typically need to take turns spending holidays with their respective families. I’m not sure how this worked out with all of my aunts and uncles, but in my…