Christmas has a way of arriving quietly–then suddenly turning into a fond memory.
After every reflection and intention that started it, this year’s holiday season unfolded in its own way. It wasn’t perfectly polished or over the top, but it was warm–familiar and full in the ways that mattered most.
Looking back now, it wasn’t the big moments or the carefully curated traditions. It was the glow of the house, the people who filled the rooms, and the small carefully etched pieces of the season that really made Christmas.
Mom’s Winter Wonderland
If there’s one thing I can be certain of, it’s that Christmas is my mom.
Every year, without fail, the house is transformed into a winter wonderland that would put the Hallmark to shame.
Lights are strung around every room, decorations somehow finding their way onto every open surface, that still somehow creates a beautiful orchestra of Christmas cheer–without the overwhelming burden.
It’s perfectly layered and thoughtful, like each piece was placed with a story behind it.
This season is her favorite. It’s in the way she moves through the house after everything is set up, pausing to tweak a snowman, centering a strand of light that’s slightly out of place.
She carries this joy in her that’s not rushed or manufactured, it’s genuine–even if she’s a little off tune with her caroling.
Growing up, I knew every December my mom changed the theme up just a little. Even now walking into the fully decorated house still feels like crossing into another world–exciting, but but always comforting.
It’s warm in a way that goes beyond a fireplace heat–like a reminder that some traditions don’t fade, they move slowly leaving a feeling of home in its wake.
Watching her pour so much of herself into the spaces she creates makes the season feel anchored.
Like no matter how crazy and chaotic life becomes, there’s still somewhere glowing, waiting to embrace you with a warm place to sit
Christmas Eve With Chosen Family
For almost ten years, I’ve spent Christmas Eve somewhere familiar–but not my own– surrounded by people who feel like family nonetheless.
Dinner was full and loud in the best way possible. Plates were passed around, the “kids” were in one dining room, the older folk in the other, conversations overlapped and laughter spilled into the corners of the rooms.
One cousin who is very pregnant–about to burst with twins–which somehow made everything feel more surreal, like the room itself was waiting for something new
Of course being one of the only single people in the room, I’m asked the most important questions. “When are you going to have kids?” My favorite is “You know X is single too?” So of course I deflected with well I didn’t know you’re pimping out your son.
After that lovely and not awkward at all conversation was had, the Chinese Christmas game started, and with it the chaos.
Competitive chaos.
The kind where nobody is actually clear on the rules, and people are yelling over each other (lovingly?) and suddenly everyone is very interested in winning something they definitely don’t need.
It was loud, messy, and fun–only the good kind of ridiculous.
And then something small — and unexpected — happened.
As we were packing to go plate and getting ready to leave, my friend’s little brother bumped my shoulder in a quick, almost-hug.
It caught me off guard–not because it was unexpected, but because it was small and unprompted. We aren’t especially close, so the gestured felt quietly meaningful in a way I didn’t or couldn’t explain.
So my night ended the way any good one often does–full, a little chaotic, and warmer than you realize until the cold night air brings you back.
One of those evenings that settles in gently, leaving behind the feeling that you’re exactly where you need to be.
Christmas Morning & the Day That Followed
Christmas morning started early – and cold, despite my Echo stating otherwise in that peppy voice it has.
I was the first person up around seven, mainly because my cats were ready to eat and I was clearly getting in the way of that.
So freezing, I got up and wrapped myself in my thickest blanket, and woke my mom. Before doing anything else I was quickly reminded that my cats weren’t the only creatures who were hungry.
I slipped on boots and headed outside to feed the six stray that have taken up residence in our barn. Because they’ve chosen my barn, of course I gave all of them names.
After feeding the cats, and their apparent leader, Richard the rooster – I wished everyone a Merry Christmas before heading back inside.
Once I thawed, I fed my four indoor cats and then turned the heat on–priorities. While mom was slowly making her way to the living room, I made myself a cup of hot cocoa and sorted the presents into two piles: hers and mine.
My favorite part of my morning was watching my mom open her gifts. Clothes, socks, things for her health, shoes– and a toolbox so she could finally keep all her tools in one place–and out of the kitchen!
Watching her open them felt warm and easy, the type of moment that doesn’t need much, just time.
As for my pile, I ended up with socks (which I have been asking for), and a fourteen-inch Strawberry Shortcake ragdoll that made me laugh more than I expected, simply because I was completely off guard with that unexpected gift!
So while some gifts are more practical. Some are nostalgic. Both felt right in their own way.
After our family presents, we lingered at home for a while before heading to my aunt’s house for Christmas lunch.
That’s where the (not-so) Secret Santa was happening along with the scratch-off tickets that have somehow become tradition–even though one, was originally done as a gag gift, and two still hasn’t produced any winning tickets for me in the three years we’ve been doing them.
A nice surprise was, we did get to see family that normally doesn’t visit us this year. There was laughing, joking, teasing–the loud family kind. I was even graced with the opportunity to meet my cousin’s pet turkey, which was… unexpectedly kinda great.
Later that evening, my mom and I headed back home to wait for her boyfriend to return from his family’s Christmas. The three of us exchanged gifts, which included what his family gave us–household staples, cleaners, snacks, tissue paper.
The practical things that somehow feel just as thoughtful and caring.
Once the house settled and mom went to bed, I cleaned the aftermath–boxes, bags, wrapping paper, gift tissue scattered everywhere as if it was some Christmas war zone.
A quiet end to a full day. The kind that left me tired in the best way possible.
A Gentle Look Back
Now that Christmas has come and gone, I find myself sitting with the quieter parts of the season– moments that never demanded much, but offered plenty in return.
It wasn’t a perfect holiday season, but it never needed to be.
It gave me warmth in that familiar way. I was able to spend it with people I care about, laughter, and rooms that felt lived in rather than staged.
It was the kind of Christmas that settles into memories without needing to announce itself.
Thinking back, I’m grateful for the way it unfolded. It wasn’t rushed, or overly polished- it was ours.
We had traditions that were steady, moments that made me laugh, a few surprises and a peaceful calm that followed once everyone’s belly was full.
This was my Christmas. And it was more than enough
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Until next time!
-Quill 🪶
