It’s Christmas morning, and after a lovely Christmas Eve filled with gifts and heavy appetisers and pomegranate martinis at my dad and bonus mom’s house last night, I have not set an alarm. I wake up naturally, slide the breakfast casserole and cinnamon rolls in the oven, pour myself a giant cup of coffee, feed the cats, light a candy cane candle, and crawl back into bed to read for an hour. The silver tinsel tree in my room sparkles as I snuggle under a velvet green comforter with my phone on Do Not Disturb.

After breakfast, I leave the phone in a kitchen cubby and pull on jeans, a few layers and my hiking boots to walk two blocks east to the local glen. As I descend the rock steps, I pass a fellow solo adventurer, a woman decked out in red and green running gear and a Santa hat. She beams and shouts a semi-breathless “Merry Christmas” as she sprints up the steps past me. I walk further down into the forest bowl, over the bridge by the beaver dam and north to the waterfall, which is sometimes frozen. The air is clean and sharp, and the quiet is mesmerising — just shy of holy.

A waterfall at Glen Helen Nature Preserve in Yellow Springs, Ohio.

When I return to the house, I throw the brown sugar ham in the oven and the cheesy potatoes in the slow cooker. Once I’m showered and comfy in my thick gray sweatpants, hoody and fleece socks, I open the under-the-tree packages I’ve saved from friends, thoughtful presents that have arrived this month from all over the US and abroad. I text each a thank you and a “Happy Holidays” before putting my phone back on Do Not Disturb.

I grab my book, settle in on the couch with the cats, turn an NBA game on mute, and read and nap for the rest of the day. In the evening, I’ll make myself a ham sandwich, stream Christmas Vacation or Home Alone, pour a bourbon, and lean in to the relaxation vibes. It’s one of my favourite days of the year, and I wish I didn’t have to white-Christmas-lie to make it happen.

***

When you tell people that you plan to spend a holiday by yourself, they do not like it. They recoil in horror. They extend immediate invites. They frown at you with visibly abject pity. They say, “But you can’t spend Christmas alone! No one should spend Christmas alone!”

Ma’am, I can, and I do. And I love it.

When I was a kid, my parents hosted a Clark Griswold-esque “Fun Old Fashioned Family Christmas” dinner for 20-plus family members. It was generally as chaotic but not nearly as entertaining as the movie. My mother worked herself to the bone for the month leading up to the big day. The week prior was a Christmas nightmare of chores and to-do lists for her, my dad and me. On Christmas morning, we were always on the clock. Mom literally set a timer while we opened presents. Even then, I thought, Why does most of this work and “holiday magic-making” fall to the women? What a crock.

Forced holiday magic extends to the workplace too. As an educator, I’ve taught in many schools with a Secret Santa gift exchange option for the teachers. Each year, I would decline, and each year, the organisers would include me anyway, which meant that I did........

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