something twinkly this way comes

Alex came home for Thanksgiving this week, and it was just lovely to see her — it was so good to have my family all together again under one roof. We ate loads, we visited close friends, we watched movies and we decked the halls. It was all exactly as it should be, and I’m so grateful.

One of the traditions to which Alex holds fast is watching the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade live. At some point every Thanksgiving morning, Alex blearily wanders to the TV room in her pajamas, dragging a blanket with her, and she snuggles down on the couch to watch. She’s been doing this ever since she was a little girl. Usually, by the time she comes downstairs, the parade is well underway. Still, she never misses when the float carrying Santa and Mrs. Claus appears, heralding both the end of the parade and ostensibly the beginning of the Christmas season.

Normally, I tease her about her need to watch this every year, but Alex is nothing if not romantic about holiday traditions. So this year, as Marcus and I were getting the Thanksgiving meal ready, we half-watched it along with her. We watched the giant inflatable balloons, the high school and college bands, the music acts we hadn’t thought of in years (Chicago! En Vogue!), and marveled at how great Cher looks (talk about a Radiant Rebel!).

Then finally, Santa came (and the wonderful Sheryl Lee Ralph as Mrs. Claus). And I have to admit, even I felt a pang of excitement.

It’s not because I love Christmas exactly (even though I do) — it’s mostly because I’m excited for the season. It has been such an intense few weeks before this Thanksgiving holiday, and I have a couple more intense events on the books to come, but the idea that soon after will be a time of twinkle lights and celebration feels hopeful. Encouraging.

Obviously, that’s not to say that the time won’t be busy: there are gifts to buy, potentially a few events to attend — anyone who has ever experienced the end of any calendar year knows that year-end can be overwhelming. So before it gets too crazy, I want to remind myself to hold on to a cadence of rest. I want to commit to doubling down on a movement practice. Drink extra water. Maybe every time I see a Christmas tree, I’ll take three deep breaths.

So, here we go, friends: welcome to the holiday season. As we make our way to 2024, let’s remember the words of the poet Gwendolyn Brooks:

we are each other’s
harvest:

we are each other’s
business:

we are each other’s
magnitude and bond.