True Comfort and Joy

An article by Mary Elizabeth Williams. She has written for the New York Times, Salon.com, and other publications. She lives in Brooklyn with her husband and two energetic daughters.

A few years ago, my husband and I planned a major move for December 31. The last thing we needed that Christmas, in our bubble-wrapped apartment, was more debris or a complicated feast. So we struck a deal: one gift apiece. After a simple meal, we took a walk, ruminating on our time in the town we were leaving and planning our next adventure. It was utter bliss. So why, a few yuletides later, did I spend all day cooking, entertaining, and opening a warehouse's worth of presents? By day's end the house was a disaster, my mother's frenzied picture-snapping had driven me crazy, and my shrieking toddler's refusal to sleep had me in tears. Somewhere between planning an idyllic event and actually living through it, my ho ho ho had got up and gone.