When The Holidays Don't Feel Right

It was the most wonderful time of the year—at least, that’s what the songs always claimed. The twinkling lights, the endless carols, the laughter, and the cheerful faces—it was all supposed to be filled with joy. Elena stood in the middle of her living room, the holiday decorations sparkling around her, yet something gnawed at her. She had checked her list twice, decorated the house to perfection, and had the turkey roasting in the oven, yet the sense of unease wouldn’t leave her.

She glanced out the window at the snow gently falling outside, blanketing the world in a serene, quiet white. The perfect scene. Her neighbors’ homes were aglow with strings of lights, the occasional sound of laughter echoing from across the street. It should’ve felt magical. But Elena couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.

She ran a hand through her dark, curly hair, adjusting the Christmas star atop the tree. Every ornament on the branches was arranged just so, every garland draped over the mantle. The scent of cinnamon, gingerbread, and pine filled the air, but beneath it, there was something heavy, a pressure in her chest that she couldn’t explain.

“Everything’s fine,” she murmured to herself, giving the room one last look. Her husband, Greg, would be home any minute. She smiled to herself at the thought of his excitement when he saw the house—he always acted like a kid around Christmas. It was one of the things she loved most about him. And this year, they were hosting the family dinner at their house. She’d invited both sides—her parents, Greg’s parents, their siblings, everyone. It was the first big gathering since her mother’s health had improved, and she’d wanted it to be special.

But still, the feeling remained. Something was off.

Her phone buzzed, snapping her from her thoughts. She grabbed it quickly, hoping it was Greg. It wasn’t. It was a message from her best friend, Claire.

“Can’t wait for tonight! I’m bringing the eggnog. See you soon!”

Elena smiled at the message but still couldn’t shake the weight that hung over her. She typed a quick reply: “Sounds great! See you soon.”

She set the phone down and turned toward the kitchen. There was still so much to do before the guests arrived. She pulled the roasted vegetables from the oven and set them on the counter. She opened the fridge, double-checking the desserts—everything was ready. Still, something didn’t sit right.

A sharp knock on the door startled her. Elena’s heart skipped a beat, and she hurried over to answer it, relieved to see Greg standing on the other side, his breath fogging in the cold air.

“There’s my girl,” he said, his face lighting up when he saw her. He leaned down to kiss her. His warm lips lingered against hers for a moment, a comfort amidst the rising tension she couldn’t explain.

“I was starting to think you weren’t coming back,” Elena said, pulling him inside. She inhaled the faint scent of his cologne, which always calmed her nerves.

“I had to work a little late,” Greg said, shrugging off his coat. “But now I’m here, and the holiday madness can officially begin.”

She chuckled, although her stomach churned at the back of her mind. She watched him place the coat on the rack and pull the large bag from his shoulder. He dropped it beside the table with a little more force than usual, his eyes scanning the house with an approving look.

“You’ve outdone yourself,” he said. “The place looks amazing.”

“It’s just... I don’t know.” Elena ran a hand through her hair again, trying to mask the feeling creeping up on her. “It’s not perfect. Something feels... wrong.”

Greg tilted his head, concerned. “What do you mean? Everything looks perfect. The turkey’s in the oven, the house smells amazing, and we’re about to spend the night with family and friends. What could possibly be wrong?”

She sighed, trying to explain the vague sense of unease. “It’s not that. It’s just this... feeling. Like something is out of place, but I can’t figure out what.”

He reached out and gently cupped her face, tilting it upward to meet his gaze. “Elena, honey, you’re just stressed. It’s the holidays, remember? There’s so much to do, and you’re trying to make everything perfect. But it doesn’t have to be perfect. All that matters is that we’re together. And I’m here. We’re both here.”

His words were soothing, as they always were. She smiled, grateful for his steady presence. But even as he held her, that nagging feeling remained, a persistent whisper at the back of her mind.

“Yeah. You’re right.” She forced herself to smile. “Let’s just focus on tonight.”

They went about their evening, setting the table and preparing for the arrival of their guests. Soon, the doorbell rang again, and family members filtered in, each greeted with warm embraces and cheerful greetings. The kitchen filled with laughter and chatter, the clinking of glasses, and the buzz of excitement.

Yet, as the evening wore on, Elena couldn’t shake the strange sensation that something wasn’t right. Everyone else seemed to be enjoying themselves, but she felt as though she were watching the evening unfold from a distance, disconnected from it all.

Claire and her husband, Mark, arrived, bringing the promised eggnog and holiday cheer. They were the first to sit at the dinner table, and soon, the whole room was full of the familiar sounds of family catching up, laughter echoing through the house. But Elena felt a growing sense of disquiet. She kept glancing at the door, half-expecting someone to walk through it, but it was always just another burst of wind or the jingle of the wind chimes.

Her father-in-law, Harold, leaned across the table and nudged her gently. “You alright, Elena?”

She blinked, snapping out of her reverie. “Yeah. Just... tired, I guess.”

“Nothing to worry about, I hope,” he said, his voice tinged with concern. “You’ve been working so hard to make tonight perfect. But you don’t have to. You’ve got people who care about you. It’s not about perfection.”

She gave him a half-smile. “I know. It’s just... something feels off. Like there’s something missing.”

“Missing?” Claire asked, raising an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know.” Elena sighed, her thoughts a tangled mess. “I just feel like we’re all here, but something’s not right.”

Greg glanced at her, his eyes softening. “Honey, it’s just the pressure. Take a deep breath, relax. Enjoy the night.”

She tried to, but no matter how much she wanted to let go, the unease settled deeper. Her gaze kept darting to the empty space by the door, as though she were waiting for someone who wasn’t there. Something was missing from the room, something no one else seemed to notice. It was like the holiday magic everyone else felt had somehow bypassed her.

The evening went on, and though she smiled, laughed, and participated in the conversations, Elena couldn’t shake the emptiness that gnawed at her. It was like she was trapped in a dream she couldn’t wake up from, watching the world move around her while she remained frozen in place.

Finally, after everyone had left and the house was quiet again, Elena found herself alone in the kitchen, cleaning up the remnants of the meal. Greg had already gone to bed, his exhaustion apparent after a long evening of socializing. But Elena couldn’t bring herself to rest. She stood by the sink, running the water over the plates, watching as the soap bubbles floated away with the current, like fleeting thoughts.

The doorbell rang again.

She froze. It was late—too late for anyone to be arriving. She glanced at the clock—nearly midnight. Her heart raced.

No one had come to visit since everyone had left. Slowly, she walked to the door, her hand trembling as she reached for the handle. When she opened it, she was met by nothing but the soft blanket of snow on the front porch.

She stepped outside, scanning the dark yard, the quiet street. Nothing. There was no one.

Her pulse raced. There had been someone there, hadn’t there? She glanced down at the ground and noticed a single snowflake-shaped ornament resting on the doorstep. She picked it up with trembling hands, her breath caught in her throat.

The ornament was familiar. It was the one she’d given to her mother years ago, before she passed. It had been on her mother’s tree, the last Christmas they’d spent together.

“Mom?” Elena whispered, her voice trembling. Her mother had passed away just before Christmas last year. The grief had been unbearable. She hadn’t expected any sign from her mother, especially not on a night like tonight.

But there it was.

It felt as if the world around her stood still. The weight of the holiday, the missing piece, the nagging sense that something was wrong—it all made sense now.

It wasn’t the house, or the guests, or the food, or even the decorations. It was the loss. The absence of the people who once filled these spaces. The ones who had been there, and now weren’t.

Elena clutched the ornament tightly in her hands, tears welling in her eyes. She wasn’t alone tonight. Her mother was with her—perhaps in ways she hadn’t expected, but in ways she would always remember.

As the snow continued to fall around her, Elena whispered into the night, “I miss you, Mom.”

And in that moment, as the wind whispered through the trees, she felt a sense of peace she hadn’t known in a long time.