Growing up I hated it when Hanukkah and Christmas didn’t overlap. It reminded me how different I was in such a Christian country. Sure, I received presents first, but by the time my Jesus-following friends ripped open their gifts of My Little Pony and bikes and, lets be honest, socks, I forgot about my equally as lame cool gear.
But as my brother and sister and I moved out of the house, and as we all maintained different schedules, it no longer mattered when Hanukkah (its date determined by the Hebrew calendar) landed. We knew we’d all be home over Christmas, so that is when we exchanged gifts. In fact, it became our ritual to exchange on Christmas night — we knew all of our friends would be busy with their families.
Last night was the first night of Hanukkah. And I’d never been so happy to have the Festival of Lights occur this far from Christmas and this close to Thanksgiving.
Cue the mashed potatoes.
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