Whatever this season brings, I hope it’s kind to you.

Dear friend,

It’s the morning of Christmas Eve and I’ve been awake for hours, watching the fiery sunrise from my mother’s kitchen. Yesterday while on our way home my sister and I decided to stop at Trader Joe’s to pick up some flowers for our Christmas morning trip to the cemetery. On Thanksgiving, we forgot to think ahead and buy the flowers early so we went empty handed. When all that’s left in your power to do for the people you love is to place some beautiful fresh flowers at the stone bearing their name, it becomes a deeply important ritual.

We arrived at Trader Joe’s and laughed hysterically when we saw that the entire floral section had been cleared out. Not a single flower was left. We delighted in imagining a swarm of people all buying every stem of flower in the store, desperate to beautify their homes. In the mix, I imagined, were people like us who take flowers to tombstones on a cold morning while their neighbors open presents.

Eventually we settled on a tiny Christmas tree dusted with glitter, one of only two left in the store. We stocked up on snacks for what would become an evening marathon of watching Lord of the Rings. The cashier, chipper as they inexplicably often are, asked what fun plans we had for the holiday and I admitted: just surviving it. And that’s it. Every year, all I want for Christmas is to survive it.

There is a certain amount of labor you have to do when you are not a joyful holiday person, so as not to ruin other people’s special day. And some of that labor can be exhausting. All the songs strongly demand that you be merry and bright and deck the halls and have a holly jolly Christmas and so on and so forth. I don’t know how people do it. But I understand why they try.

The rituals are, despite their tendency for excess, rooted in kindness and connection. At its core, gift-giving need not be a display of wealth or even consumerism but a true and small way to say I spent some time thinking about you and the things you like. And the gatherings, if you have them, need not prove anything other than simply to say I like being around you.

So just in case you are also a secret grinch like me, or if this season is your first one feeling lonely and disconnected from the joy around you, I’d like to offer you some other wishes for this season. A few moments with just the right warm beverage. A book that offers an escape or a grounding. A beautiful winter’s sunrise, and the luxury of time to enjoy it. A walk on wet grass on a quiet morning. A table filled with people you love. A table that’s just yours. A good story on the radio. A very warm blanket. A sparkly little Christmas tree from Trader Joe’s.

All my best to you, now and always.

Lidiya