I played a song to set the mood, The Christmas Song. The version by Celtic Woman always finds its way to me first. The original may have been by Nat King Cole, but the Celtic Woman rendition carries something more fragile and haunting. Every year, that song cuts through me in a way that words fail to describe. It feels like home and longing at the same time.

I once shared that song in an old post. The video no longer exists; perhaps it was removed over the years. Still, there is always a new upload somewhere, waiting to be found, as if the season itself refuses to fade.

Since 2022, I have spent Christmas abroad, except for last year. My time in Germany remains unforgettable. That experience felt like the beginning of something new in me. A new tradition was born. A new way of seeing and feeling the season. There was something about the quiet streets, the smell of roasted nuts in the air, and the calm of winter markets that made me feel at peace with myself. It was both foreign and deeply familiar, as if my own memories were learning a new language.

I have not planned Christmas this year. Not yet. But I already sense the shape of it forming quietly in my mind. I hope it can once again become a calm space for my restless thoughts, a reminder that some traditions are worth keeping, even when everything else changes.

Labels: Love and Relationships