December 24, 2025
Sitting in quiet contentment earlier, I realized something was…missing.
It’s Christmas Eve. No great plans for Christmas, in fact we’re not acknowledging it at all. (Talk of holidays or birthdays upsets my elderly, cognitively impaired mother.) For the last 15-plus years, this has been distressing and depressing, especially at Christmas.
I wondered where the Christmas angst was hiding, probing for it like poking at a sore tooth. But the tooth wasn’t sore. The angst was not there.
Our circle of family friends is minuscule, really only one person locally and a couple in the San Francisco Bay Area. The local friend, a single gal around my age, had no Christmas plans this year, and I hesitantly offered “Christmas dinner” at our house.
“It won’t really be Christmas dinner,” I warned. “We’re not going to mention Christmas. I haven’t done holiday decorating other than a few swags and lots of fairy lights. But if you want to come over and eat whatever I end up serving…” She accepted with alacrity and asked what she could bring.
And I feel… No stress, no pressure, no anxiety. We’re having foolproof Trader Joe’s Mandarin orange chicken, rice, and salad. Our friend will contribute fresh fruit for dessert. Not a feast with fatted goose and plum pudding, but perfectly suiting me at this moment.
*****
Thinking of it now, a small smile twitched the corner of my mouth. So much for the glory days of over-the-top decorating, a formal crystal-and-china table, candles glowing, fireplace blazing, not to mention an eagerly anticipated exchange of gifts. Those were the jolly Christmases of my childhood and young adulthood, with family and longtime friends. My later adulthood, sans spouse or children, lends itself to just-me-and-mom holidays. I know I’m lucky to have the “and mom” part of that equation.
This may be the first time in decades that I have not reflected with painful yearning on those cozy, companionable holidays of yore.
I take my emotional pulse. Am I simply numb? Resigned? Acknowledging “this is as good as it gets”?
Au contraire. I’m bubbling with quiet enthusiasm and something a step up from contentment. Actual happiness.
Even Santa Barbara’s severe storm—rain pelting ceaselessly, dire flood warnings—doesn’t feel dampening (ha, ha). We’re not in a flood or mudslide zone. Our friend lives 10 minutes away, and by tomorrow, the worst of the rain should have passed. If the power stays on (God willing), we shall be as cozy as can be.
*****
In its wisdom, Universe throws a curveball against complacency. I’m concerned that our cat with diabetes, Brownie, may have low blood sugar…or high blood sugar…a touchy stomach last night, a bit lethargic today. Nothing earth-shattering, but he doesn’t seem right. Luckily, the vet dialogued via text this afternoon, and I received necessary guidance.
He’s snugged against my torso right now, purring, my arms wrapping around him to reach the laptop on my knees. Message: I’m fine, don’t worry.
Okay, cat-in-tune-with-Universe. I believe you.
It’s so odd, so new, to experience okay-ness and even better-than-lukewarm feelings about our non-Christmas celebration. I suspect there really was something to all the hoopla about 3I/Atlas’s closest-point-to-Earth drive-by, plus the Winter Solstice. I had the most disagreeable day on December 20 that I’ve experienced in months, maybe longer, but a day or so later, poof—all resolved, or perhaps dissolved. And in the aftermath, this quiet happiness, despite it being Christmas.
I never imagined the gift of an amiable Christmas might have lurked in the comet-like tail of 3I/Atlas’s passage, or filtered through from the season-turning of the Sun. Wherever it came from, whatever it is, exactly, I’m delighted to accept.
