The thing about expectations is that they will always, without a doubt, meet a reality.
I picture every moment of my life in my head before it happens. When I meet with friends we always find ourselves on a sunny day in my mind. When I step onto a flight, I always picture myself as the newest cast member in the show LOST. When I looked forward to coming home to Michigan for Christmas I pictured what we all do around the holidays: perfection.
I expected to come back to Grand Rapids and see my family. To see my mom and dad and hug them both with tears in my eyes. I looked forward to drinking coffee with my dad in the mornings. I thought about the feeling of truly being at home, which I haven’t had in three months despite loving France. But none of those things met me as I landed in Detroit.
But here’s the reality:
My mom had Covid.
What’s worse is that nobody told me! That’s what happens when you move to another country, people forget to keep you up to date. My brother Riley let it slip on our way to a family Christmas party my mom wouldn’t be attending. Suddenly all of the expectations in my head went rushing by. Followed by one very selfish question: where am I going to stay?
I couldn’t drink coffee with my dad if I wasn’t staying with my dad. I couldn’t hug my mom with tears in my eyes if I wasn’t allowed to be in the same room with my mom. How could I finally feel at home when I wasn’t actually allowed to go home.
It was settled that I would stay at my aunt and uncle’s house.
(Note: These people who opened their doors to me should be celebrated with dancing in the streets and a national holiday in their honor. If you are reading this, again, thank you.)
I got into my car in defeat to a situation I couldn’t change and I sang to myself a snotty a capella rendition of,
“I’ll be home for Christmas,
You can plan on me…
I’ll be home for Christmas,
If only in my dreams.”
Although I lived a life of luxury in their houses, waking up to homemade omelets and sitting on heated toilet seats (cool right?) it was so difficult to be so close to home but not truly there.
Luckily my mom tested negative by Christmas Eve and I was able to give her that big teary hug. I was able to go home and drink coffee with my dad and pet my dog and breathe easy the way you only can in your own home. And I usually am not one for the whole “true meaning of Christmas/ forget the presents” stuff but there is something to be said about letting go of your expectations and letting the chaos of the holiday season enchant you. I loved spending time with my aunts and uncles who took me in and let me eat their food and stay up too late watching America’s Next Top Model in their living room. I loved spending extra time with my brother and my dad out of the house.
In the kitchen at my parent’s house, there’s a sign on the wall that reads “Life is all about how you handle Plan B.” For the record, I hate the sign –but it’s true. Some expectations have a harder time facing reality than others, but it’s not about the collision between expectation and reality, it’s about how you handle life when the collision happens.
(This post is, of course, dedicated to my Aunt Annie, Aunt Lynne, Uncle Rob, and Uncle Dean. Thank you ALL!)