Since 1998

I hate the fact that this is going to sound like a pitty party but I'm homesick. It certainly is that time of the year when families get together. I don't get that chance. Maybe by choice but mostly because of the lack of monetary funds to afford to go back and see my family. I have made other choices, such as owning my first home at age 23, having an amazing credit card debt and having to work a second and a third job to pay them. Those choices are extremely rewarding, and constitute an enormous part of the American Dream, but keep me from going home right now, not so "dreamy" now, heh?
Even though I don't show it enough or say it enough, my family is the most important thing in my life. Yes, that same disfunctional and out of the ordinary family is the one that I terribly miss at the moment. You'd think that after me being away for 7 Holiday seasons I would be used to it by now. But I am not, that's not hardly the case.
It's hard to answer people asking you about what your plans for Christmas are. I just smile, tilt my head and say: "I'm working". Indeed, I do offer to work long shifts during the holidays to reward myself by letting my coworkers spend time with their families, they do have the chance. I also work a lot to avoid sitting at home with an empty dinning room table and a heart full of nostalgia staring at the TV. And I am fortunate enough to have friends in town that will offer me a seat in their table at their homes if I was not working. But I can't do that. It's like eating in front of the hungry. Watching other families getting together to celebrate is an act of masochism. I don't need to be reminded in a bold way that I am alone without a family nearby. And I know that those are not the intentions of those who invite me over, I know that their intentions are to make me feel welcomed, make me feel like I am part of their families. But no family can be compared to mine. It is a feeling that inevitably occurs.
I miss my mom's extravagant cooking. Her pride and joy. I miss the smell of the blend of traditional Costa Rican, American and Taiwanese food. Tamales, a turkey, and chop suey. That aromatic fusion that only my siblings, my parents and I would understand how to savour at two o'clock in the morning when we finally sat in our designated seats to enjoy that feast. It was like a secret code. I miss watching a movie after the early morning meal until the sun rised. I miss talking to my sisters about nothing and everything at once. I miss my mom's version of a Christmas tree. I miss my brother's silence. But most of all, I miss enjoying each other and being right next to each other. Physically.
I worry about how my brother feels when he thinks about his son not having his uncle around. I imagine my sisters' conversations, I miss them. I miss talking with my best friends. I ask myself if I have made my father proud. I wonder how my mom feels when she looks over and realizes that the seat that I once took is still empty. I hope it doesn't hurt her as much as it hurts me not to fill it. I hope she doesn't cry when she goes to bed on that night like I have been doing every single year, since 1998...