It started before dinner.
Christmas Eve has always been the most important day of the year for me. It smelled of cinnamon and oranges, a white tablecloth gleamed on the table, and the wafer was waiting for the first words of reconciliation. It was supposed to be a time of peace, love, and family time. But this year everything went wrong.
It started before dinner. Preparations were in full swing, but the atmosphere was tense. My daughter, Ania, burst into the kitchen with a grudge.
– „Mom, why did you make borscht with dumplings again? I said that Michał prefers mushroom soup!”
– “Ania, we've been making borscht for years. Michał can try something different once,– I replied, trying to stay calm.
But her tone was sharp, as if it were a matter of life and death. At that same moment my son, Paweł, entered the room, making a sarcastic remark:
– „Well, yes, everything has to be Ania's way. As always.”
– „Paweł, maybe you'll stop commenting? for once!” – Ania exploded.
And so began an exchange of words that became more and more aggressive with each passing moment. I tried to calm them down, but they didn't seem to hear. The atmosphere, which was supposed to be full of love, was changing into something that resembled a battlefield.
When we finally sat down at the table, everyone was tense. We started sharing the wafer, but even at that point we couldn't avoid conflict.
– „Michał, will you share the wafer with Paweł?” – I asked, hoping that the gesture of tradition would save the evening.
– „I don't know if that makes sense. Paweł doesn't take me seriously anyway– Michał replied coldly.
Paweł threw his fork on his plate.
– “I don't take you seriously, because ever since you've been in this family, you've been constantly starting conflicts!”
Ania stood up from the table, her face red with anger.
– “Mom, how can you let this happen?! Paul's always picking on me! He never supports me!”
I tried to intervene, to calm them down, but the voices were getting louder and louder. Even the children who were running around the tree stopped with terror in their eyes.
Finally, I couldn't take it anymore.
– „Enough! This is supposed to be Christmas Eve! Can't you just act like a family for once?”
But my words bounced off them like a wall. Everyone started talking at once – throwing out grudges, dredging up old grievances. In an instant, all the magic of the holidays evaporated. I felt tears welling up in my eyes. I left the table and locked myself in the kitchen.
There, alone, I sat by the candlelight, trying to understand what had gone wrong. I only wanted one thing – for us to be together, to forget about our everyday problems for a moment. But instead, Christmas Eve became a nightmare.
When I returned to the living room, the table was empty. Everyone had gone their own way, locked in their own anger. The Christmas tree was still lit, but its glow seemed dimmed. I was left alone, in a house full of people who had forgotten what it means to be a family.
That evening I realized that the holidays don't always bring us together. Sometimes they remind us of how far apart we are. And although I still hoped that everything would work out, no one would call this Christmas Eve a “love holiday”.
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