My stomach hurts. I want to cry and scream. But that’s so ungrateful

AS

Chanukah rolls around, my stomach drops. No Chanukah parties for us. Not even one. Do you know what that’s like? How’s sad and painful it is?

The week before Chanukah, everyone’s discussing their plans. Shabbos Chanukah at their parents, Shabbos at their in-laws’ the week before because, even though it’s not Chanukah yet, the other side needs a turn. Grandparents’ party on Sunday, other grandparents’ on Tuesday, this family party Sunday, and one on the last Monday, which technically isn’t even Chanukah.

My parents live overseas. So do my in-laws. And all our siblings. We’re alone. We don’t have any parties to attend or coordinate. Not even one.

I open the magazines to glossy ads about powdered sugar doughnuts and fried delicacies. The jokes in the magazines and the cartoons are filled with the panic of planning and coordinating all the different parties, the chats, the games and activity ideas.

That’s not what Chanukah looks like for us.