The Ham Was Hot—and So Was the Moment

This year, I cooked a spiral ham.

Technically, it was already cooked. But I heated it up—on time, without panic, and without anyone standing in the kitchen hangry and disappointed. And that? That’s a big win.

No last-minute chaos. No frantic scrambling while guests stood awkwardly waiting. No tears in the bathroom because it all fell apart again.

This time, things were ready. The ham was hot. The table was set. People actually enjoyed the food—and even better, there were leftovers. Good leftovers. Like, eat-it-cold-out-of-the-fridge-the-next-day kind of good.

Sure, I could’ve done the eggs earlier. And I probably should’ve sliced some things in advance. But I had help, and we made it work. We made it feel easy. And for the first time in a while, I let myself feel proud.

Because that’s what I’ll remember—not the perfect timing, or whether the potatoes were just right—but the feeling of sitting down, looking around the table, and knowing I had a hand in making this memory.

And this time?

I was part of it too. Not stuck in the kitchen. Not apologizing. Just there, with the people I love, eating a damn good ham.