I went from sunny Florida with blue skies, warm breezes, and morning light, to eight straight days of rain and no sun and counting. 

If that doesn’t perfectly sum up how different this year has been, I don’t know what does.

Coming back to California for Christmas felt familiar and unfamiliar all at once. The places were the same, but the atmosphere, inside and out, was… different. Gray skies, steady rain, and that quiet heaviness that comes when the sun refuses to make an appearance. 

My parents came up again this year for a long weekend before Christmas, and even that felt different. Softer. Slower. Less about doing and more about just being together. Long conversations, shared meals, and the kind of time you don’t rush because there’s nowhere else you need to be.

I spent time with my brother and his family, which always grounds me. There’s something about being with siblings that reminds you who you were before life got complicated, and who you still are underneath it all.  I only wish my sister and her husband could have been here. 

And then there was time with my kids. The heart of it all. The part that never changes, no matter how much everything else does. Laughter, connection, and the comfort of being together, rain or shine.  My time with them means so much to me, it is the best Christmas gift of all.  

Friends, Between the Raindrops

One of the gifts of coming back was seeing some of my dear friends, the ones who know the long versions of the stories and don’t need explanations. Even quick hugs, short coffee dates, or squeezed-in conversations meant more than they probably know.

At the same time, I missed seeing some people I deeply care about. The holiday rush is real, packed calendars, family commitments, travel, and the general chaos that comes with this season. It reminded me how full life is for all of us, and how sometimes love doesn’t look like time together, it looks like understanding when timing doesn’t work.

Those connections didn’t feel lost. Just paused. And that was okay this visit.

This year, Christmas Eve and Christmas Day I am spending with my kids at my daughter’s home, where she will host us. Another reminder that this season, and this whole year, has been about new traditions, unexpected invitations, and learning that “different” doesn’t mean “wrong.” It just means rewritten.

This Christmas isn’t loud or flashy. It’s quiet. Reflective. A little rain-soaked. But it’s also full of gratitude, for family, for love, for the people who show up, and for the resilience that gets built when the sun doesn’t.

Maybe that’s the lesson this year: even when the skies are gray, the warmth still comes from the people around you.

And if nothing else, Florida sunshine is waiting for me on the other side of this chapter. ☀️

Merry Christmas—from wherever you find yourself this year. 🎄✨