This Christmas Eve, I’ll be on a plane heading back to Newfoundland — my first Christmas home since 2003.

Honestly, that sentence still feels strange to write. Life just… happens, and suddenly twenty years pass. But this year the timing lined up, my nieces are home, and one of them just had a baby, so it finally felt like the right moment to go. I’m excited. And nervous. And sentimental in that way you get when you’ve been away a long time.

And because it’s Christmas Eve, I want to say something that feels true every single year: this season is hard for a lot of people. We throw lights and celebration at the darkness to make it feel easier — and it does help — but it doesn’t erase the fact that this time of year can be heavy.

If you’re feeling a bit off, tired, or not-so-merry, you’re not broken. You’re human.

For me, I manage a lot of that emotional static by making things. Sewing, crafting, tinkering — whatever I can get my hands on. Making things pulls me back into myself. It’s grounding. It reminds me that I can still shape something in a world that often feels like it’s happening to me instead of with me.

Some years, that’s the thing that keeps my mood from tanking. Some years, even that doesn't help, but I keep doing it, because it would be worse if I didn't.

For you, it might be family. Or quiet. Or absolutely hiding from family — also valid. It might be baking, or walking, or watching the same movie for the hundredth time. Whatever gives you a little breathing room, take it. Give yourself some grace. There’s no “right” way to feel festive.

And then there’s the solstice — which just passed — and I always notice it, even if I’m busy. It’s the darkest point of the year, and then everything shifts. Slowly, sure, but the light starts coming back.

There’s something legitimately magical about that. Like the world lets out a breath and says, “Alright, we’ve gone as deep into the dark as we’re going. Time to turn around.”

I hold onto that this time of year. Not in a dramatic, cauldron-stirring way — just in a “hey, things are starting to brighten again” way. It’s a good reminder when you’re tired. Or overwhelmed. Or trying to get through one more family gathering without losing your mind.

So wherever you are this Christmas Eve — flying home, staying put, working, resting, celebrating, or ignoring the whole thing — I hope you get a little moment that feels like light returning.

And if you don’t, take a breath. It’s still coming.