
Most of the time when I write these letters, I feel like I’m writing to a friend. And honestly, I kind of am. There’s a lot of people on this little newsletter’s distro list who know me in real life, or who’ve worked with me, or who follow me elsewhere on the internet. So, for today, let’s pretend we’re offline, at a coffee shop, having a chat.
If we were, since it’s right before Christmas, I’d probably consider getting something festive to drink, like a gingerbread latte or peppermint mocha or something named after Santa’s reindeer… but who are we kidding? I’m a creature of habit and always order one of two drinks anytime I’m at a coffee shop (and you could argue they’re almost the exact same drink) — either a cafe au lait or a latte. And usually it’s hot, although I’ve been drinking a lot more iced lattes lately (even though it’s officially winter here in SoCal).
Most likely the name the barista scribbled onto my cup is Noelle or Joanne or Julie, because "Joelle” never ceases to confuses people. I learned a long time ago to answer to just about anything if it sounds remotely similar.
And if we were getting coffee, I’d probably admit to you that I’m not really looking forward to the next few days, aka Christmas weekend. Well, I am and I’m not, I guess. I’m not completely dreading it like I was Thanksgiving, which feels like a tiny victory, and I am actually, genuinely looking forward to the baking that I’m planning to do, plus having a real vacation from work. (I have more than a week off because my company closes between Christmas and New Year’s for an end of year shutdown.) The closer we get to Christmas Eve, though, the more melancholy I become. I can’t even really help it. I miss my mom, and I still find myself in disbelief that she won’t be here or even within calling distance. I was going to make manicotti (a stuffed pasta) for Christmas dinner, but ultimately decided against it because I got too bummed thinking about the fact that my mom wouldn’t be around to share her recipe for it again, like she had when I’d made them for Christmas in 2019.
I’d tell you that I was relieved and grateful to have felt more spirited this holiday season than I had the last two (the past couple of years, I didn’t even want to put our tree up and only begrudgingly tolerated it for my husband’s sake), but the sadness is starting to settle in, like a long winter’s nap. And if I allow myself to get really quiet, I know I’m still angry about it all — about my mom being gone, about losing a parent earlier than most people my age, about the unsettling reminder engraved into my soul that life is fleeting and fragile. I’m thankful for so very much, but the holiday season seems to make it harder to ignore the things (people) I’m missing. And I know (or assume) people are sick of hearing that, but it’s the truth. I want to slide back into an uncomplicated, familiar Christmas (and version of myself), but I’m pretty sure it’s gone for good.
I sometimes find myself reminded of the lengths my mom went to when I was a kid to create an impenetrable holiday spirit that wrapped around everything we did when I was growing up. It mattered so deeply to her that I believed in Santa and felt that holiday magic for as long as humanly possible, and that Christmastime always felt…cozy. Bright. Special. And I know that we can all create that holiday magic for ourselves, and for those around us, with traditions and lights and just straight up believing in the good… I’m ready to do that for any future kids I have, that’s for sure.
Maybe I’d also share that I wholeheartedly believed in Santa for, ehhhh, a bit longer than was probably age appropriate. (Actually, would I share that? I’m not even sure why I’m writing it out. Embarrassing? Potentially.) But hey! You know what? Being able to believe in Santa — having that privilege, that opportunity — is kind of wonderful, and part of me still wishes there was some kernel of truth (or magic) to the lore of Santa. I’m pretty sure my mom did too. (That’s one of the best things she taught me — that it’s okay to believe in the potentially impossible, and to hope, to wish, to dream.)
I’d probably also ask you what holiday movies you’ve watched this month, if any, because I’m a big fan of the cheesy, Hallmark-y ones — you know, like the ones where the corporate lawyer leaves her big city job to become a baker and save Christmas —although some of them have become too cheesy/terrible even for me to sit through. I’d tell you I recently watched “The Polar Express” for the first time, and it was all sorts of lovely (yes, it’s a kid’s movie… but there’s a delightful song about hot cocoa that will definitely get stuck in your head). Earlier this week, I caught “Who Killed Santa? A Murderville Mystery” on Netflix, and it was such a treat. (Will Arnett, Jason Bateman and Maya Rudolph… I mean, I dare you to try not to laugh.) I’d also want to hear what your favorite holiday movies are, and see if you have any recommendations. My all-time favs are “The Holiday,” “The Santa Clause” and “A Charlie Brown Christmas.” Speaking of, I’m a little salty that suddenly, “The Holiday” seems to no longer be available to stream. (Are DVDs still a thing? I think I need to buy one.)
At some point, I’d realize I never ended up telling you what I’m cooking/baking this weekend. If you’re curious: my grandma’s coffee cake recipe, these cinnamon rolls, and maybe also some basic chocolate chip cookies. Oh, and gingerbread waffles for Christmas Day morning (a new tradition as of 2020) — yum. I’d want to know what’s on your menu too, and would probably remind you that it’s totally fine if your plan is to eat ice cream in bed and ignore that there’s any type of celebration going on elsewhere.
And before we parted, I’d mention the book I just finished last night, The Cloisters. Ah! So good. Very mysterious, and takes you into a sinister heart of the New York City art museum world. I loved it, and it was my 25th book for the year.
Goal for 2023? Less mindless scrolling, more books. And maybe more coffee dates.
+++++
Thanks for having some imaginary coffee with me. 🙃 Wishing you and yours a merry/happy/healthy/joyful holiday season, no matter what or how you may be celebrating. I so appreciate you being here!
Thanks for reading,
Joelle