A week of Thanksgiving break is the perfect transition into winter break. It’s like a preparational walk through wonderland amidst a tryptophan haze.

Like a little white rabbit with a pocket watch, breaks are usually a tug of war of time slots with friends. Breaks long enough that loved ones expect a visit, but not long enough to fit time in with everyone provide social time management training.

Tempted with “drink me”s by hometown friends shoving alcohol at you while family members try to stuff you with food: the “eat me”s, can slow you down, but the fast pace continues and forces you to push on.

The first stop on this mad dash is usually visiting family and reacquainting yourself with childhood surroundings.

Sitting under the bright kitchen table light between sister and mother for interrogation and a recap of the latest family gossip with forewarning of unmentionable topics on the holiday comes first. Acceptance of your mother’s new artwork choices – whether it be a gold statue or giant pear-second.

Before the washing machine can be loaded or sleep from the three-hour drive is had, there is the traditional three question dad quiz:

1. How is the car running?

2. How are your grades?

3. Do you need any money?

Finally, it’s time to rest and relax before a week of hustle and bustle juggling. The one guiltless opportunity to neglect visits.

After adjusting to a king size bed at school in a single apartment, a week of sleeping in a twin bed in the same room as your visiting sibling will be a gradual adjustment. With feet hung over the end of the bed, my elbows and knees frequently smacked against the wall throughout the night almost in sync with my sister’s loud breathing. This will be a taste of what is to come in two weeks and last for three weeks.

The city’s mask of lights and trees reflect warm and welcoming enchantment, a safe serene simplicity. At closer look, the cold winds are growing stronger, Chicagoans mostly exhibit the same distant demeanor and inside business fronts lurks chaos – much like family gatherings.

With 18 younger first cousins, events are nothing short of a Mad Hatter’s tea party. In fact, with all the tables different in length and height pushed together on holidays, our dinner table typically resembles the dining decor in “How the Grinch Stole Christmas.”

Dishes clanging; children whining, crying, laughing, arguing; three different televisions competing with sound; cigarette smoke; burning smoke; spills; washing dishes; drying dishes; hugs; kisses – a holiday cycle that will repeat in weeks to come.

Fitting in time with different friends is now where things begin to get tricky. The pace increases and timing is key.

High school friends can be divided into separate groups that do not mesh no matter how conveniently located their houses are to one another and how distant your house is to their location.

Distributing and balancing time between groups is difficult, but even more challenging is recognizing people from your past or better yet controlling and tuning reactions to their latest unexpected news.

Returning to suburbia, the likenesses of your grammar and high school classmates are all distorted. Their faces remain somewhat familiar but images altered.

A week provides practice with many run-ins, which are only a fraction of the number to be encountered over the duration of three weeks.

The drive back into Charleston is the first breather after the chaos and time to reflect and plan before falling back down the holiday rabbit hole.