Did you send the invites early, plan the menu weeks ahead?
Colour-coded seating chart, every preference read?
Did you polish all the silver, press the napkins into fans?
Or panic-bought some pretty ones and hoped nobody scans?
Do you know all the reindeer names?
Check the norad tracker?
Or call it done by 7pm
with a box of crackers?
Did you mingle through the evening, gracious, present, glass in hand?
Or find the kitchen suddenly needed more than planned?
God or gremlin? Who's hosting tonight?
Are you gracious and glowing or dimming the lights?
Did you plan this for months or survive it by luck?
Personalised napkins or genuine what-have-I-done?
God or gremlin? It’s safe, you can say,
Did you want all these people or just say okay?
Did you memorise the allergies, the dietary needs?
Or google "is prosecco a food group" and proceed?
Did you avoid your phone all evening, present, warm, and bright?
Or blanket burrito on the sofa, checking it all night?
Did you say yes back in September in a moment of goodwill?
And spend December wondering if you're hosting still?
God or gremlin? Who's hosting tonight?
Are you elegant, effortless, –
holding it right?
Did you plan this for months or survive it by luck?
Either way you showed up — and honestly that's enough.
God or gremlin? Whatever the scene—
You opened the door. That's what hosting means.
Maybe you hid in the kitchen longer than you should
Maybe the candles didn’t look like Pinterest said they would
Maybe you smiled through the chaos, nodded through the noise
Maybe you just needed quiet and got the opposite of poise
But you were there
And the table was set
And someone felt welcome
And nobody's forgotten that yet
God or gremlin? Who's hosting tonight?
Doesn't matter anymore — everyone's alright
Whether planned to perfection or scraped through by luck
You showed up with the napkins
And that's already enough
God or gremlin — the spirit's the same
You opened your door
And that's the whole game