Christmas Eve continued to be relatively peaceful and uneventful. The traditional family get-together at my sister's was surprisingly drama-free and a genuine treat. Afterwards, my oldest nephew--he turns 18 in three weeks--and I stayed up talking until the wee hours of the morning, which was somewhat evocative of the times I would come in when he was very very young, and he would sleep with me and keep me up late asking me question after question: "Why is the sky blue?" "What causes disease?" etc. Now, though, instead of question and answer we just talk pretty honestly about our individual lives--his girlfriend, my boyfriend, our relationships with my sister and his mother, our mutual love for technology and gadgets, politics (he's a rabid "Young Republican," his only significant flaw), etc. He's also discovered this journal, and I suspect we may hear from him. Hey, Matt.
Christmas Day itself was strange and not completely enjoyable, though there were some relatively pleasant or at least innocuous moments throughout. Overall the day was pretty sad, obviously, with my Dad's absence so clearly felt; in the late afternoon my mom, my sister and I visited the cemetery. Additionally, earlier in the day the sniping at me already had begun, and comments about my perceived lack of filial and fraternal responsibility and duty--vis a vis home visits, family vacations and holidays--peppered the day's conversations and became the focus of a late-evening discussion.
And today wasn't much better, unfortunately, resulting finally in my deciding to leave my sister's house around 4:30 because I just couldn't stand listening any longer to her constant angry, bitter carping at my brother-in-law, my nephews and me.
The evening back over at my mother's house has been very pleasant and relaxing, though. After a quiet dinner at home, Mom, my nephew and I visited my dad's sister and her husband for a bit, and then came back for a peaceful evening together at home.
It can be a mixed blessing/curse to have family aware of your journal. My mother reads mine (and keeps her own), and I find that there are things I'm less likely to reveal because I know she's reading it. Then again, we're more aware of the daily happenings in each other's lives because we can read each other's journals.