It was all a daze. A miserable, magical, monotonous daze.
I have no other way to describe the contents of 2020. And what better way to close out the year than with the already stressful holiday rush? Don’t get me wrong, I am no Scrooge. I loooove the holiday season, but that also means I end up placing a lot of pressure on it to be perfect. And if this year has shown us anything, we know plans will fall through…
And when those plans did fall through, our sofas were there to collect the broken dreams of what could have been. Now, as we approach the holiday season, those same sofas are comforting us as we wait for what undoubtedly will be.
We’ve spent a lot of time huddled up in our homes recently. Where cars and planes failed us this year, TV and movies transported us to alternative realities. Our phones connected us to cultural uprisings. We felt the pain, the sometimes joy of our nation from worn-in beds and worn-out sofas. From our armchairs, we lost loved ones. From kitchen tables, we felt loneliness. From our showers, we cried for ourselves, for our friends, for complete strangers. We lost jobs. We made bread, like, a lot. We picked up new hobbies and forgot old friends. We gained weight. We changed. We grew.
2020 changed a lot for us, but it doesn’t have to change the way we find joy this season. Pockets of joy still exist in the corners of our homes, even if they aren’t filled with the traditions of the past.
In the spirit of having never once making a concrete plan during the past 10 months of my life, I am not planning to make this “2020 Holidaze” thing a sure-fire series. But it did bring me a little spark of joy to be back on the blog, so I’ll try and keep it up for the rest of December.
Hopefully, we’ll chat soon. But for now, I’m wishing you a happy and healthy holiday season, from my worn-out sofa to yours.
