Slow Sundays in December

It is Sunday, December 15^th. Nearly 9:00pm. 

It is 10 days before Christmas. And I can’t help but think about how this very much feels like a sweet spot.

 

I spent the day doing dishes, and laundry, and organizing. Rescuing a couple dogs with my roommate, which is a somewhat long and muddy story for another time. We had sushi delivered for dinner, and watched a YouTube video while we ate, and then got back to our perspective Sunday evening chores. 

 

I’d just changed my sheets on my bed, made a second batch of salted toffee to put in some gift bags for coworkers, and my roommate was baking bread in the oven. So not only was the smell of melted butter, sugar, and chocolate still lingering in the air from my toffee but so were the divine scents of rosemary, thyme, basil, and sourdough. All those scents, plus the salted caramel candle I had burning made the whole house smell like what I’d imagine a cozy, snow covered cottage in a Hallmark Christmas movie to smell like.

 

And instead of stressing out about the week of teaching ahead of me, I was thinking about all the fun things coming up like Grinch Day tomorrow, and the gifts my team and I will be giving out. The Starbucks gift cards I’m going to spend on festive coffees before driving to school each morning. I was thinking about my amazing friends and coworkers and the things I’ll get to write to them in their Christmas cards and the movies we plan to watch with the kids on the last couple days before break. And I was imagining what a relief it will be to walk out of the school doors on Friday afternoon, knowing I have two weeks to celebrate and relax and recover.

 

The cats and dog were curled up in various locations around the house sleeping. The Christmas tree and garland lights were twinkling, and I sat down to read a book in their glow while I waited for my comforter to dry so I could finish making my bed and crawl under the warm covers.

 

I opened the Christmas murder mystery I’m reading and a few short pages in it hit me.

 

This is it. This is what it should feel like. This is a day that we wait for all year long. Anticipate and hope for.

 

As adults we no longer have Santa to look forward to. We don’t necessarily believe in the magic of tinkling sleighbells, and Elves on shelves, and hooves on rooftops, or a shiny red nose in the dark. Some of us even find the belief in the “reason for the season” difficult to believe in these days. But that’s a topic for another time I suppose. So then what do we have?

 

We have the hope of rest. The excitement of showing those we care about just how much they mean to us. We have cold nights in warm sheets. Great stories to read by the Christmas tree. A holiday symbol which while not technically magical, certainly feels like it is. Especially mine with all its peacock colors, and Disney princesses, and glitter. So much glitter.

 

We have nostalgia. And the memory of what Christmas once was. Which is all at once sad and hopeful. It gives us an excuse to be excited for something. Whether it’s a break from work, gift giving, family and friend time, or just hot chocolate by a fireplace with a favorite childhood Christmas movie playing in the background. 

 

It reminds me of times I cherished, with people who cherished me. Some of whom are no longer with us. That knowledge brings with it a special kind of sadness and memories that are sometimes welcome and sometimes painful, and sometimes both.

 

I think it’s comfort. And peace. And an excuse to slow down a little. And rest. And bake things that make your whole house smell good. And buy things for people you don’t always remember to show gratitude towards. 

Being an adult is hard. Life is busy and difficult and exhausting. But slow Sundays in December hold the promise of something more. More nostalgia, more giving, more joy, more rest. More peace. Even if only for a little while.