The Evans Family Does Christmas

My father starts playing Christmas carols in October. By Thanksgiving, my younger sister, Sophia and my father have a choreographed a dance and lipsink number to Mariah Carey singing 'All I want for Christmas'. My brother is the most amazing dancer I have ever seen; if I didn't know any better, I would question whether or not he had kneecaps at all. I have never seen legs move like that. He will only dance to techno.
Our Christmas celebrations are unique to say the least. We spend days preparing all the food. We have four pies for four people. There is wine. There are the same movies we watch year after year. There is Mariah Carey. There is techno. Instead of praying, we dance. Instead of going to church, we laugh until we cry, or lose the ability to breathe.
There are empty chairs in the room, however. My older sister, Laila, lives on the other side of the country. She supplements our Christmas routine with a game of roller derby. Her derby name is 'Diane Go to Hell.' Fitting for her, really. Her absence is felt by all of us, a phone call is not the same as her trying to smother your head into the couch. Her aggression is a sign of love. Really, it is.
In the room, there is an absence felt even more heavily. My Situ, my grandmother. She is not dead, but I wonder if she would be better off that way. She was diagnosed with Alheimerz years ago. We visit her often, though she has no idea that anyone is there. She ground all of her teeth away, her hands are clenched into tight fists, though she is still beautiful. She loved us so much. Situ was the best dancer of us all, even at 83.
My community is small, true. There are times when we hate each other, and no, that is not too strong of a word. We know how to put our differences aside, we know how to eat and laugh and dance, and that is what community means to me.