I moved to New York 10 years ago, and it's always been a no-brainer to go home for the holidays. I've only missed two Thanksgivings with my family (one I was in China for... so it's kind of far) and we've been together for every Christmas. The thought of being apart doesn't sit right -- Christmas wouldn't feel like Christmas without the smells of my mother's kitchen and her hand-stitched stockings or the little last minute things that make my dad (ahhhmmm "santa") all giddy. Thanksgiving wouldn't feel like Thanksgiving without reuniting around a table for our favorite activity: eating ourselves into a food coma. (We're really good at it, don't be jealous). If I was away from my family around that time of the year, I would probably throw myself quite the pity party.
However, since coming to NYC, I never went home for Easter, and I never felt like I was missing out. Sure, we celebrated Easter growing up, but we didn't really have any steady traditions once my youngest sibling was too old to scavenger hunt for plastic Easter eggs around the yard. (We know there's one hiding inside the grill, dad). When Meg invited me out to her family's house for Easter, I was up for it, and I've been hooked ever since. You had me at sunrise bike to the beach...
First, we leave the house at 6:30am, and no matter how early we go to sleep the night before, it's torture. But you throw on as many layers on as possible, and hop on the bike that her dad set out for you...and try to catch up with him. That brisk air wakes you right up, you pedal for your life, and about 5-10 minutes later you pull up to a small gazebo on the beach. And you see that sunrise and that beach and peace enters your heart. A friendly face offers you hot cocoa and a program as you join the group of people in a few songs, prayer, and some reflective passages. (And if you're from the Bible Belt like me, it's the best church service ever as it's 20 minutes long!) There's something so hopeful to me to see the sun rise, think of how big the world is, and be amongst a group of strangers singing old familiar melodies. And also to look over to this family that isn't mine and feel as though I belong.
The rest of the day is filled with brunch, lots of sugar, adult beverages, and games made for children under the age of 6, which always makes for a fun combination (since we're all 30ish and above).
One year I missed Easter because my grandfather passed away, and I went to go be with my own family. Not only did Meg's mom send me a card and a basket of goodies that I missed, so did her aunt! I realized I truly did have my own seat at their table, I wasn't just a plus one. I'm so grateful to be welcomed into a tradition that I now claim as my own. Easter won't feel like Easter unless I'm freezing and riding a bike to the beach at sunrise and relapsing from a tipsy sugar coma in the afternoon.
I'm thankful for a surrogate family full of such joy, hospitality, and laughter. I can only hope I can offer this to others. Though this post is a little late, hope you had a HOPPY Easter. Because I'm an adult and am easily amused.