Maybe it’s because I don’t have children.
Maybe it’s because I’ve spent the last year being actively grateful.
Maybe it’s because I’ve decluttered and scaled down to just the things that truly bring me joy.
Maybe it’s because I’ve spent all of my Christmases, since the age of two, in the house my father built, and I dread the day that I no longer can.
Maybe it’s because I’ve finally figured out what matters – who matters – and why the things that shouldn’t don’t.
Regardless, I’m feeling both joyous and melancholy about Christmas this year. My favorite carols have been putting a literal song in my heart and a lump in my throat the size of a chestnut roasted on an open fire.
I treasure this time of year with family, and I want it to stay the way it’s always been – every year – forever.
Maybe that’s because of love.