The Weight of a Holiday Smile

Sheena was the glue. Everyone said it, and most days she wore that title like a crown. But as December settled over Brooklyn with its flashing lights, long grocery lines, and endless WhatsApp messages from family, the crown began to feel more like a chain.

Being the oldest of five in a Caribbean family meant one thing during the holidays: Sheena was the default planner, the cook’s assistant, the decorator, the babysitter, and the one who “just knows how to do things right.” Her parents, both aging but full of pride, depended on her to make the family look good.

“Sheena, make sure you order the black cake early this year,” her father said over the phone.

“Sheena, pick up your brother from the airport. He never checks his messages.”

“Sheena, can you make the sorrel? You know I don’t like the way your sister makes it.”

Sheena smiled, said “of course,” hung up, and then sat in silence; her chest heavy, her breath shallow. The words piled up like the snowflakes beginning to drift across Flatbush Avenue.

Late one night, after scrubbing pots and wrapping gifts, she opened her journal, her secret sanctuary since childhood, and wrote:

Poem: “Inheritance”

I come from women who say yes before they breathe,

who carry everyone’s hunger before their own.

I am tired of being the strong one the one who never falters,

the one who never says no.

How do you rest when love has always meant labor?

The next morning, her mother, Marcia, stopped by early; scarf tied tight, hands full of grocery bags. Sheena tried to hide her fatigue, but her mother noticed the trembling in her daughter’s fingers as she reached for a mug.

“Sheena,” her mother said softly, “you look weary, baby.”

“I’m fine, Ma.”Marcia placed a hand on her shoulder. “No, you’re not. You’ve been running yourself ragged every Christmas. You think I don’t see it?”

Sheena blinked, startled. “I just want to help. You and Daddy always worked so hard during the holidays. I’m just doing what you did.”

Marcia sighed, sitting down. “And maybe that’s the problem.”

For a long moment, the only sound was the radiator humming. Then her mother spoke again, voice low but firm.

“When I was your age, I thought I had to do everything for everybody. My mother did the same. We called it love, but it was duty wearing love’s perfume. I never wanted that weight for you.”

Sheena’s eyes filled with tears. “Then why does it feel like saying no means I don’t love y’all?”

“Because no one ever taught us that love can rest,” Marcia said. “But it can. It must.”

That afternoon, Marcia gathered the family in the kitchen. “This year,” she declared, “we are not putting everything on Sheena. Everybody’s helping. No arguments.”

The siblings groaned but obeyed. The youngest took charge of the decorations. Her brother made the grocery run. Even her father learned how to marinate the ham properly (“Don’t watch me!” he laughed, fumbling with the cloves).

By Christmas Eve, the house smelled like nutmeg and peace. Sheena sat by the window, watching the city lights flicker, her journal open on her lap. She flipped to the poem and added a final line:

I come from women who say yes before they breathe, but I am learning to exhale first.

When her mother came to sit beside her, Sheena leaned her head on her shoulder. “Thank you, Ma,” she whispered.

“For what, baby?”

“For breaking the pattern.”

Marcia smiled. “For once, we’re all gonna enjoy Christmas together. Not as burdens, but as family.”

Outside, Brooklyn’s night buzzed with sirens and laughter. Inside, Sheena felt something she hadn’t in years. Light.

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About Kiyaza

Kiyaza the Poet is a multifaceted author and creative whose work bridges poetry, design, and self-discovery. In her book Lost Between the Sheets, she invites readers into her intimate journey through relationships, friendships, and the layered experiences of life as a Black woman. Beyond her literary voice, Kiyaza channels her artistry into Water Lily Studios, a design platform of journals and planners, where she encourages reflection, creativity, organization, and self-sufficiency in everyday life. 

Her latest creation, Poetry in Bloom, is a collection of handmade, framed poems adorned with pressed flowers, celebrating beauty, resilience, and the art of storytelling.

Kiyaza’s writing focuses on the raw and reflective journey of self-discovery while exploring love, loss, healing, and growth through the lens of a millennial Black woman. 

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Connect with Kiyaza! 

Email: createdbyzakiya@gmail.com

Instagram: @kiyazawrites

Website: www.zakiyacreates.com  

Book: Lost Between the Sheets vol. 1 : https://a.co/d/6PaU3bV