I used to be eager for the holidays to arrive. Family, good food, presents, and no worries. Now I’ve grown. The three hour drive seems to draw out, my stomach hurts after the rich food, I’m too old for presents, and the world seems to grow darker by each day. My family is still family… But you know how it goes. Casual hateful comments grow tiresome after explaining time and time again that “no you can’t say men are better than women” and “no I don’t want to drive in your truck that has confederate and Trump flags hanging off the back” and “no the election was not stolen” and “no trans people are not pedophiles”. It makes sense when you realize that isolated town is 99.9% white, and the only church in town is Catholic. 

When my family asks me “how’s school going? What are you majoring in again?” I tend to change my answer from person to person. For my bigoted uncle, something in agriculture. To my slightly less bigoted cousin, sustainable agriculture. To my sweet as pie aunt married to the bigoted uncle, environmental studies. For my 11 year old cousin with her innocence yet preserved, environmental humanities. She reminds me of how I used be. She gorges on sweets and grasshopper milkshakes that my grandpa makes. Rips open her piles of presents with gusto and poses for the paparazzi of cameras flashing at her. I am an environmentalist for her, and for the generations that come after me.

In the end it doesn’t matter the answer I tell them. They will forget, and the next time, we’ll have the exact same conversation. 

“How’s school going?”

“Good.”