It’s mid-November, and my Christmas trees are still in their boxes; decorations are still in the stores, lol.
Normally, by now, everything would be done. The tree up. The house dressed. The list checked twice.
This year, I’m not rushing. And I’m learning that’s okay.
I’ve been gone for a while. The last time I wrote to you was September, and so much has happened since. I published a book, Let That ‘Ish Go, Sis. Life also had a few other plans for me, and I’ve been sitting in a bit of a funk ever since.
Not a dramatic one. Just quiet. Slower than usual. The kind where you look up and realize you’ve stopped doing the things that normally come easy.
So I stopped. And I let the boxes sit.
But somewhere in the stillness, I started thinking about Christmas back home.
Christmas in St. Lucia didn’t come from a store. It came from the house, from the music, from the food, from the people. The house felt different, with the smell of fresh linoleum and paint, the cleaning, and the new curtains. The music played from morning until night: Tradición de Navidad and sweet medleys from The Mighty Pelay. And the food. Honestly, so much of what I grew up eating at Christmas, I can’t eat anymore. My body decided those days were over. Go figure.
So this year, I’m leaning more on the music.
I want a Christmas that feels the way it did when I was growing up. Slower. Warmer. Rooted. Less about what you buy, more about who’s in the room and what’s playing in the background.
I don’t have it all figured out yet. The boxes are still closed. But I think the funk is finally making room for something softer.
Maybe I don’t need to catch up to the season this year.
Maybe I just need to let it come to me, the way it used to.
xoxoxo
Meli Mel