Craic Christmas of 2025
Listen, I know we are halfway February but I need to get this off my chest. Christmas of 2025 will forever hold a special place in my heart. What started as a spontaneous swipe of the Mastercard became one of the sweetest holidays of my young life.
I grew up an ocean away from what I have always called my Irish brothers. Even though we have spent much of our lives apart, we have always found a way to reconnect with one another whenever life permits. Although I have seen these boys at various stages of our lives, it always feels organic to slip into familiar banter and catch up on the bits of our lives we have missed, no matter how much time has passed. The depth of unconditional love that effortlessly exists within their family, and is graciously extended to their long lost Arkansan sister, is something that continues to resonate in my soul since I left Belfast. For reasons that one cannot properly articulate, Belfast feels like home though paradoxical from the one I grew up in. And yes, maybe it was the lush green countryside, fresh air, potentially one too many pints of Guinness, or the hug of a cozy pub filled with Northern Irish banter bouncing off the walls filling my body with serotonin, but Craic Christmas owes me nothing.
And can I also just say, while I’m here (because it’s my blog and I can write whatever I like), I feel very grateful for a holiday season where I have the freedom to pick up and go experience something entirely new. For a holiday that is, generally speaking, a day of chaos or conflict for most people, how precious was it that I just got to lean into a holiday filled with genuine connection? This kind of uninterrupted and intentional time with people that bring out the best parts of myself, my gratitude for the rarity of this moment does not seem like enough. And I swear I have not reached that level of goofiness in a very long time; it’s comforting to know that preciousness and naivety is still deep within me as I approach my 28th year.
Normally, I am usually the master coordinator of the menu, the cooking, the baking, but the boys and our matriarch would not let me do a thing. My only tasks were to sip on some bubbly and attempting to keep the fire alive, because it is still Ireland in December after all. I got to just be. Tell me the last time you got to revel in just existing in a space as warm as this! I captured some of my favorite pictures to date and was gifted the chance to just take in the quiet moments that I usually miss at Christmas. Best of all, I got to be with my (biological) brother this Christmas and that has not happened in many years. Observing him connecting with this side our family made me grateful that he has roots this close to him, though ours is across the Atlantic.
I fear I will never be able to articulate the imprint that Craic Christmas left on me, but here’s hoping you enjoyed the read through yet another chaotic brain/emotion dump from another life experience.
A week was simply not enough. I will be the first to admit it: the craic is addictive.
