I'm fully aware that it's not Saturday, but I personally love a surprise from time to time.
Hi. From right outside of Austin, Texas. I'm sitting at my parents' long wooden dining room table, which transforms into my sometimes-workspace at the end of every year and an always-place for gathering. My brother and my sister-in-law are opening a new board game as I click away, and my mom and dad are outside under the stars on a beautiful night, grilling for our near-future fajita feast. It feels familiar and sweet.
Sometimes, a message cannot wait. So here I am. There is nothing particularly urgent about this, but I got so excited and curious talking about it with my mom while on a walk that I ran straight to you. Having the last two weeks of the year off allows me to do something I don't get to do — by circumstance or by my own lack of time management or will — any other time of year: meet my ideas and eclectic thoughts where they are when the surge.
I want to talk about holiday cards. I simply cannot stop thinking them. What they represent, what they mean, why we send them. It's my first holiday season being married, so naturally (unnaturally?), it's been on my mind. I thought about doing one when I lived with one of my very best friends the year after college, but it never made it out of my phone or out of the house officially.
Now, it's me and Dan asking the question. And there's something so tender and touching and exciting about the idea of saying, “This is us.” I've found myself pondering while stirring pasta sauce and riding the Subway and looking out the car window: do we do it?
There is something about the idea that is so cute and warm to me. But also, I'm lazy. There are too many things to think about. Do you choose a photo taken during the year? Do you pick out little outfits and pay someone to do a little photoshoot? Do you include a picture at all? Do we wait until we have children? Will we regret it if we wait? Will we regret it if we never do it at all?
What even is a Christmas card? What is it? Is it a symbol of love? Of vanity? Is it novelty in an age where so much of our lives is digital? Is it a time capsule of sorts? Is it a presentation of perfection? Is it simply a thoughtful gesture? Is it for you? Or is it for everyone else?
When we set out on the humbling months-long journey of writing wedding thank you notes, I had a similar thought. I'm sorry, but I'm the
queen of cards. My cardinal rule is to always,
always have blank stationary on hand. Stuffed in drawers. In your bag when you travel. In your glovebox. Every parent has rules, and this will be mine. Never don't have a blank card available. You never know when you'll need to say thank you, happy birthday, i'm sorry, or congratulations. You never want to miss the opportunity to randomly make someone feel seen or loved or appreciated.
But a wedding thank you note? Predictable. There is no possible way to surprise anyone, and I resent that. No matter how ORIGINAL you
try to make it, it's hard not to sound like a robot. As personal and special as their expression of love is — spending the time and money and effort to celebrate you and your love across state lines, and then blessing you with a gift that will be a part of your life for many years to come — it still feels so helplessly generic, because it's difficult to properly capture all that gratitude in a note you're sending to 100+ people. Even if you do personalize it. (Spoiler, as we are still working on them: We landed on video notes for a little edge.)
To me, wedding thank yous and holiday cards are sisters, or maybe cousins. Unlocking your mailbox and seeing your name — one of the most personal things that's ours in this life — on an envelope is the best feeling. Opening it to see your friends' or family's faces and their display of wit or cleverness or personality, then displaying the collection on your fridge or counter or window sill, is joy-inducing. (Please never stop sending these to me, ever. I love them.) Yet when I think about creating my own, a digital one seems to defeat the purpose, and a paper one gets thrown into the trash or a box a month or two later. Plus, it's not cheap.
My husband's family does a short letter with on the back of their annual card with everything they did that year. That sticks with me. An old friend from college writes and mails a letter every year with updates about her life the past 12 months, almost like reading a page from her journal, but to a group of people she deems worthy of being let in on her life. No photo. It is not personalized. But it is intimate.
It's December 20th. I still don't know if we'll send one. If we do, and when we do, we'll have to answer the question: what does this mean to you?
