Tradition

"Dad canceled Christmas", my sister informed me as I trudged through the door after work.

"What?!!!" I replied. "How can he just cancel Christmas?"

Sib went on to explain that it was the breakfast that had been foregone due to a lack of attendance. I was upset, but not with my dad. Christmas came too quickly this year and in the mess of finals, graduate applications, and finding a new job, I had forgotten about holiday traditions. Because of the busy nature of my everyday life I put Christmas on the backburner and had only half-heartedly committed to attending Christmas with my dad, including breakfast.

For as long as I can remember we have held Christmas with my dad and stepmom on Dec. 23-24. Christmas Eve is usually Christmas with my dad, and then we pack up, make the trek south to Sandy, and do "real" Christmas with my mom. Somewhere over the years, however, both Christmases became "real" Christmas, and breakfast was part of this tradition. It was peach french toast, cranberries, hot chocolate, orange rolls, potato scrambles and an assortment of other exquisite foods. It was feeling warm and happy after opening Christmas Stockings. It was our final moments with Dad over the holidays. It was breakfast.

"How can he just CANCEL breakfast?" I cried. Sib was sad, too, but we realized that we both had cared too late. We had let ourselves become too busy to show how much this annual meal meant to us. I realized in this conversation that breakfast was much more than simply breakfast: it was Christmas; it was family; it was tradition.

It is so easy to take for granted the good things in our lives, especially when these good things come disguised in simplistic forms like breakfast, christmas stockings, and time spent around a warm fireplace.

Here's my reservation for next year: I'll be there. Afterall, it's tradition.