Different Is Fine

 

My 2021 Christmas season was different for a variety of reasons, some grief-related. Many people felt a sense of loss this Christmas. Covid-weariness has taken a toll on everyone, and I was not alone in wondering what level of celebration I could muster.

 

This year I spent more energy vacillating than decorating.

• Should I set up and trim the tree? Do I really have the energy?  
• My tree is so pretty! But why put it up? Really, why?
•  Because I love to look at red, blue, and green twinkly lights and remember the stories behind all my ornaments. Because having festive décor one month a year adds variety to my surroundings, and variety is the spice of life.
• Maybe spices are overrated. Sigh.

 

I had fun helping two girlfriends decorate their houses, and they both offered to come help me decorate. Very tempting offers. Still, I chose to put out a crèche and a candle and call it a day. I wanted to conserve energy for spending time with people, choosing and wrapping some gifts, mailing at least a few Christmas cards. In retrospect, I think that was wise.

 

I do miss seeing a colorful, twinkling Christmas tree, a basket of red and silver crystal balls on the coffee table, and red wooden angels and Santas tucked here and there. But I got to see festive bows and wrapping paper in the living room for several weeks, and they provided pops of color—my own original, dorky, low-energy Christmas-bow decorations. A plus—dismantling my Christmas décor will also be easy this year.

 

Connecting with people in various ways made for a warmly meaningful season. Accepting my energy limits felt odd, but wise. Christmas traditions are awesome! But you know what? Different is fine.

The Girl Who Reads on the Metro ~ my review

 

If you enjoy reading, you must meet Juliette. And Soliman. And Leonidas. Noticing what others on the Parisian subway and in parks are reading, they sense what people might like to read next and leave that book on a bench for them to "coincidentally" find. In this, they act as passeurs, the term for people who sneaked books into the hands of book-loving Jews in Nazi-occupied Paris. That Christine Féret-Fleury's novel, The Girl Who Reads on the Metro, is a modern-day story makes their secret society all the more charming.

Although the novel includes some relational drama, not least of which is young Juliette's courage to follow her heart into this mysterious, oddball adventure, the story is really about love of literature. Literature expands our horizons and engenders empathy toward others. Although a solitary act, reading can bring us together. Féret-Fleury includes a suggested reading list.

For me, Féret-Fleury's lyrical, sometimes symbolic, descriptions were the most delightful aspect of The Girl Who Reads on the Metro. Oh, how I would love to be able to write literary fiction like this!