One small town, three Christmas trees, and enough glitter to last until next Thanksgiving
Okay, first—how was everyone’s holiday? I hope it was filled with warmth, comfort, and the kind of family moments that feel like soft blankets wrapped around your heart.
This year’s Thanksgiving for me was… interesting. Combining a warm blur of travel, noise, overeating, laughter, and of course—coffee, the unofficial sponsor of all holiday endurance.
I traveled about three and a half hours away into a little North Carolina town that borders Virginia—Eden. A sleepy place of heart rather than hustle, the kind of town that feels like everything slows down when you drive in.
Pulling into an already packed driveway, you could practically feel the warmth, smell something delicious and awkwardness—wrapping around you the moment you opened the car door.
Some places don’t welcome you in, they wrap themselves around you
Traveling into Chaos
The drive itself wasn’t bad—mostly quiet roads, cold air, and Christmas music humming in the background. But you know that weird bundle of nerves you get when you’re heading toward kinda family you only see a couple times a year? Like you’re not sure if you’re walking into a Hallmark moment or the beginning of a small tornado?
Spoiler: It’s always a bit of both—always.
My mom and I left at seven in the morning to drive to her boyfriend’s house, where we’d switch into a truck and head toward his family.
Naturally, I waited until the morning of to pack—because nothing says “I am a responsible adult” like stuffing clothes into a bag at dawn while whisper-yelling at yourself.
I kissed my four cats goodbye (tragically, I was not permitted to bring them), tossed my bag into the car, and braved the freezing air. After moving our bags into the second freezing truck, we obviously had to stop for coffee—because who travels in forty-degree weather without it?
I may or may not have demanded to get some— but who needs to know?!
I even brought my laptop so I could start writing this post during the drive.
Naturally… I fell asleep an hour in— a warm blanket will do that.
When I woke up, we were rolling into a driveway bursting with cars, kids, and extended family. The kind of scene that hits all at once—noise, warmth, chaos, and a welcome-ish tangled together.
The long awaited arrival
The moment I climbed out of the truck, the cold air slapped me awake from my car-nap coma—the nerve. Inside the house, totally different vibe—warm, loud, chaotic, and packed.
Everyone was crammed into the kitchen and dining room waiting for food to finish cooking.
People were talking over each other, awkwardly getting in the way, someone was negotiating first dibs on the dressing, and kids were darting everywhere like caffeinated gremlins.
Honestly, their energy could run a small city—couldn’t be me.
Someone else was caught stealing cookies.
It was peak holiday behavior.
Then came that moment. After everyone was seated and eating all crushed together in a two table dinning room.
A dude I had never seen in my life looked at me and said,
“I don’t even know you and you’re definitely loud.”
Excuse me?
Sir??
During a holiday dinner??
In a house full of screaming children???
The way my face turned cold as the air outside, I had to bite my tongue not to hurt this jerks feelings.
My mom had to physically make sure I didn’t react in… expressive ways.
Every holiday gathering has at least one moment where the universe tests your patience.
But beneath the chaos, there was a warmth that settled into my chest. A feeling you don’t always notice right away but hits you if you pause—just for a second—between the noise.
Torture-Food Edition
Food is the love language everyone accepts.
Say whatever you want about chaotic family gatherings—good food can fix almost anything, even that one guy with zero social skills.
The turkey? Surprisingly moist.
The mac n’ cheese? Cheesy enough to get that perfect cheese-pull moment.
The rolls? Hoarded by little Billy like he was protecting national treasure.
The desserts? Lined up like contestants on a baking competition show, all silently begging for your attention.
I used all my willpower to… absolutely overeat.
Do I regret it?
Not even a little—well after the food coma.
There’s something special about a plate full of food cooked by people who each express love in their own way—through recipes whispered down generations or dishes perfected over years
Trees, Glitter, and the Great Re-Decorating Saga
Once the plates were cleared and the food coma hit full force, you’d think we’d all call it a night—but no. That was merely Phase One of the holiday itinerary. Phase Two? Decorating not one, not two, but three Christmas trees for my step-grandma.
Each tree had its own vibe: one traditional, one whimsical, and one that seemed to be fighting for its life.
My mom took one look at Tree Number One and immediately declared,
“It’s not smiling at me.”
I wish I were joking—but she said it with complete seriousness. To her, the tree had an attitude problem and needed an emotional reset. So naturally, she proceeded to take off half the ornaments and rearrange them until the tree supposedly looked happier.
And honestly? Once she was done…it did seem more cheerful. Or maybe I’d just inhaled enough glitter by then to hallucinate feelings from inanimate objects.
Speaking of glitter—
It. Was. Everywhere.
On the floor, on our clothes, in my hair, permanently embedded into my hoodie, probably still floating in the air over Eden, North Carolina. If joy had a texture, it would be glitter: impossible to fully clean up and definitely here to stay.
But despite the chaos, there was something so sweet about all of us pitching in—untangling lights, fixing crooked ornaments, stepping back every few minutes with that “yeah, this looks good” nod. It felt like building a little pocket of magic together.
Nothing tests family teamwork like decorating three Christmas trees and negotiating with glitter.
Thanksgiving Home
As chaotic and unpredictable as this Thanksgiving was, it was full—of people, of noise, of food, and of those fleeting moments of warmth you feel long after the leftovers disappear.
Every holiday looks a little different, but this one reminded me that imperfect, messy, loud memories are still good ones. Maybe even the best ones.
Until next year’s chaos—
May your coffee be strong, and your patience stronger.
