In some worlds, holidays are times of renewal - times to sink deeply into familial traditions and customs, surrounding yourself with people you love, foods as rich in memories as they are in calories, and stories of the past that take root in, and spring from, your heart.
Times that inform and define who you are despite the mild irritation, failed recipes and a sometimes suffocating sense of being entrapped by the very people who love you the most.
In other worlds, holidays are times when chaos reigns. When large gatherings of family and friends merely dilute responsibility for the most vulnerable of the group, when drugs and other mind altering substances are pooled and shared and adult desires are perverted and misdirected.
Times when believing that’ a village’ is watching your children actually means no one is, times that will also inform and define who a child is for life – in a myriad of painful and negative ways.
In my world, these realities collide, resulting in ‘holiday aftermath’ - unending hours of bearing witness to a seemingly endless parade of new abuse victims in the days following any major celebration.
Easter was no exception –to which the back to back to back to back sexual abuse cases will attest.
I’m not sure what world I was living in when I’d hoped it would be different this spring.
Certainly not this one; certainly not mine.
I heard the phrase “out of this world” this morning while driving to work … to which I could only exclaim – Oh, yes, please!