On Christmas Eve, I went to brunch with my niece, nephew, and sister at a restaurant in my town that is known for its festive, old school Christmas decorations.

We thought it would be a nice way to kick off the next few days of holiday madness.

The restaurant decor did not disappoint. The main bar was decked out in lights and garland and red, white, gold, and green everything. Kitschy Christmas wall paper in the hallway. A tree covered in 1960’s style ornaments and tinsel. It was the perfect way to get into the holiday spirit.

We ordered Christmas themed cocktails. My sister got the Chrismapolitan, and I got the Secret Santa (apple cider mixed with bourbon.) The kids got non-alcoholic drinks that came in fancy cups.

After brunch, I called an uber for my sister and the kids (her uber app wasn’t working), and we said our goodbyes. And then I realized that I wouldn’t be able to call my own uber until they got home. Twenty minutes at least.

What’s a girl to do?

Instead of calling my husband, who was less than ten minutes away at home, I decided to go back in and have another festive Christmas cocktail and wait until I got the alert that my family made it home.

I ended up chatting with a girl at the bar who used to work at the restaurant. She was there to pick up her boyfriend at the end of his shift to finish the rest of their Christmas shopping.

Alone at the bar, warmed by the laughs with a stranger and time spent with family, I was grateful for that moment of pleasure after a long year of grief, loss, and anxiety. 2025 had its moments of good, but it was mostly a learning year. One where I learned about strength and resilience and felt acutely the passing of time as I watch my loved ones pass on to the next phases of their lives.

I’m still waiting for my niece and nephew, who are now 17 and 20 respectively, to go back to being little kids. I am still processing that my parents are now the eldest generation of our family.

Time. It’s weird, isn’t it? Because everything feels like it happens both fifteen years and five minutes ago. Like it all exists at once. And maybe it does. At least it does in our memories. I want there to be more of those in the year ahead while we’re all still here together.

More adventures.

More fun.

More living.