Holding On to Good Times: Celebrating Eid From Afar

By Tabby

Eid has always been about connection. In Afghanistan, it meant waking up early, putting on our best clothes, and preparing to spend the day surrounded by family, friends, and neighbors. The entire community came alive—homes were decorated, sweet aromas drifted through the air, and joy seemed to echo through the streets.

The Eid outfit my Mom sent me from Afghanistan

Our relatives would start arriving soon after, each one welcomed with hugs, laughter, and plates of food. We’d eat together, take photos, and catch up on everything we’d missed. Some years, we’d pack up and head to Farkhar in Takhar Province, one of the most beautiful places I know. The campsites and gardens were full of other families just like ours—grilling kebabs, swimming in the rivers, sharing food, and enjoying nature.

Now that I’m in the U.S., Eid feels quieter. My mom mailed me a dress this year, and I sent her photos in return, smiling through the screen. We called each other, and I spoke with aunts and cousins too, saying Eid Mubarak through the phone instead of face to face. The conversations were long and full of warmth, but it’s not the same as gathering around a table or running into neighbors dressed in their best, exchanging sweets and stories.

This Eid, like the last, was hard without them. I missed hanging out with friends, vacationing with family, the casual comfort of being surrounded by people who know your story without having to explain it. I dressed up, shared a few laughs over the phone, and tried to hold on to the parts of Eid that still feel familiar.

To make the day feel a little more special, we had a small pizza party and our host mom surprised us with a beautiful arrangement of dried fruit to remind us of the decorated snack tables we used to make back home.

Even from far away, I’m learning how to celebrate in new ways—but I’d be lying if I said it didn’t feel different.

Holidays are just harder without the people you love most.