When our family first moved to Houston, Texas, from New York, warm Christmases felt strange and disorienting. Houston was my mom’s hometown, so we had that connection to ground us. We still had the tree and long-time ornaments, the Christmas cookies. My sister and niece have kept those traditions. The music, the meals, most of all the togetherness and a sense of wholeness as we all came together.

One tradition that could only happen in Houston was visiting the cemetery where my mom’s grandparents, dad, aunts, uncles, and cousins are buried. We would take a wreath for the family monument and a poinsettia for my grandfather, my mom’s daddy, as she called him, and walk among the graves and share stories. In the past few years, I’ve lost both of my parents, so we’re in a state of transition and shifting with our traditions