Christmas and New Year times have always been magical to me.
No matter how old I was, where my finances were or what part of the world I lived in, during those last days of December I always felt different.
The days of celebration shared by many people around feel warm and cozy, promising and inspiring, powerful and calm at the same time. Up to this day, the winter holidays hold a special place in my heart.
Throughout my life, I received very different presents and celebrated the holidays in different places, but the feelings I had never changed.
One year, when I was still little, I received a cute box filled with sunflower seeds. My family was having a hard time making ends meet then, but that box that later was used in so many games, and the treats I really liked at the time were a great excitement when I found them under the tree.
The other time, many years later, when I didn't believe in Ded Moroz* anymore, I got a set of mountain skis. That didn't feel a notch less or more exciting than the seeds. I equally loved them both, just like all other gifts, small or big, my loving "Santas" put under the trees.
Most times I celebrated the new year, which was more important for my family and most people around me, at home. We'd go visit family ahead of midnight on New Year's Eve and then meet with friends afterwards.
Christmas often saw us thawing out our summer cabin. The woodburning stove kept us warm and we were together as we made simple meals, decorated a little tree and listened to dad's stories about Christmas.
But there was a year when a conflict shattered our family, and mom took us kids to grandma's place to celebrate. Even though it was really tough emotionally ahead of that year's holidays, once into the spirit, I still felt that well-known, unique and loved holiday magic.
After I moved to Canada, I had years when I was on my own during holidays, and other years, when I celebrated with friends and then family I met here. And no matter the setting, the emotional cocktail was always the same. Love, gratitude, excitement.
These past few years haven't been nice to many of us. The pandemic, economy and sometimes personal challenges might have left a stamp on how we feel heading into the holiday season.
And it's okay, we say nowadays, it's part of life, too. But to stay sane, we do need to immerse in that okay condition, allow ourselves to let go, relax and for a change slow down and enjoy things around us.
It might be not the prettiest time nor the perfect holidays. Maybe gifts under the tree are not the ones you'd like to have in an ideal situation, or maybe there is no tree or gifts at all. Or you might feel down.
It's okay.
I don't have a tree up and probably won't this year, because I don't like putting it up without putting love into it, and this year so far, I only have enough love in me for people. And it's okay, too, I told myself. Throughout my decades I learned that holiday magic is here to cheer us up every year, no matter what. We just need to open our doors and let it in.
We don't need to go into debt trying to show people how much we love them. We can just say it.
We don't have to be around those who hurt us or affect our mental health, be it family or friends. Maybe, they'll understand, maybe not.
We don't need to meet anyone's expectations, be it physical appearance or achieved goals.
I believe the holidays are our break, which every person needs in the middle of darker winter months. And holiday magic is that state of recuperation, when you are surrounded by those you want to be with, doing what you enjoy, what you have energy for and what recharges you.
Happy holidays, and I hope you have a wonderful time.
*In some Slavic countries, a figure akin to Santa Claus in the west named Ded Moroz, or literally Father Frost, traditionally brings presents to children on New Year's Eve. The poor guy was declared "an ally of the priest and kulak" (supposedly reach peasants) following the 1917 revolution and was banned, but then made something of a comeback in the 1930s and onward, though donning a blue coat so as not to be mistaken with the bourgeois Santa Claus or detract from the revolutionary importance of the colour red.
