At one point during Christmas dinner, I said something to my brother in law, who was sitting at the opposite end of the table, and he could actually hear me. It was a defining moment.

Our family typically hosts about 30 people for Christmas dinner. It’s a loud, raucous and crazy-fun event. Normally you’d be hard-pressed to hear the person sitting next to you, let alone the person at the other end of the table.

But in this pandemic, I believe you should do whatever the least-comfortable person in your group is comfortable with. For us, that meant celebrating with the 6 people in our immediate household and the two we’ve been isolating with.
Our Christmas was different, but it wasn’t terrible. It wasn’t terrible at all.

Dinner was easier to plan and make. We were able to have things that would have been a hassle to make for 30 people: salmon for one, fresh pasta for another (though my husband would argue otherwise about the pasta). We didn’t have to prep for days in advance, and cleanup was a cinch.

Did we miss being with our massive group of family and friends? Of course! But instead of lamenting what couldn’t be, we did our best with what could.

And we succeeded. I know that because my mom—who has been expressing her grief with weird COVID-themed gift wrap and a deliberately half-decorated Christmas tree—was happy.

Happy Holidays my friends. Here’s to what promises to be a much better New Year.

Things have been different this year in our borrowed slice of heaven. We’ve learned through trial and error—and some awkwardness—how to eat together outdoors while keeping distance between our two bubbles. We’ve become more organized about planning meals and shopping ahead of time, so as to avoid unnecessary trips. And because we can’t really go anywhere else, we’ve spent more time together, and more time relaxing.
On the Cape, life almost feels like the “before times.” Our kids play together without masks. We give hugs, and sip each other’s beers. We maintain traditions from pre-apocalyptic times. Like Mexican Dinner for my sister Anna’s birthday, which we celebrate on Labor Day weekend each year.
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One of the lovely things about where we live now, is that when kids get to be 10 or 11 they start walking and taking the T around town, on their own. On one such outing this summer, my 11 year old discovered crepes, which sparked an idea.