You must have been wondering where I disappeared to, because I’ve been wondering the same thing. This season has swept in like a whirlwind, spinning with long to-do lists, events, and obligations. That familiar pressure to “keep up” has been stronger than ever. I blinked, and suddenly we were halfway through December.

I realized I’d been completely MIA from this space.

The truth? Life lately has felt like one giant juggling act. Most days, I’m just hoping nothing fragile hits the floor. Between work, family, unexpected hiccups, and the general busyness that seems to attach itself to the holiday season, I’ve been overwhelmed. I’ve had to take a step back—sometimes by choice, sometimes because life demanded it.

And here’s the confession part:

We haven’t decorated for Christmas. Again.

Not one wreath. Not one stocking.

Not even a tree.

There’s a part of me that cringes when I scroll through Instagram and see homes dripping in perfectly curated holiday magic. Meanwhile, our house looks, well, normal. December normal. Life-normal.

And maybe—this year—that’s exactly what we need.

The more I think about it, the more I realize that the heart of Christmas has never been the decorations. It’s not the Instagrammable corners or matching pajamas or even the peppermint-scented candles. It’s the time we spend together.

It’s the conversations with Preston while re-watching the SCREAM series, laughing at TikToks with JP, and dinners with best friends around the (restaurant) table.

Maybe it’s the quiet nights where everyone’s finally home at the same time.

Maybe this season is asking us to slow down. Stop apologizing for not doing all the things, and understand that presence matters more than presents, or presentation. (Betcha can’t say that three times fast).

So, no, we may not deck the halls this year. We might just stay curled up in undecorated rooms with blankets, movies and each other.

Honestly? That’s just perfectly fine.

If you’re feeling the weight of the season, consider this your permission slip to let go of what doesn’t matter. Christmas will come whether there’s a tree in the living room or not. What we’ll remember—what our families will remember—is the love, the laughter, and the time spent together.

Thanks for sticking with me, even in the messy, un-sparkly seasons. I’m still here.

We’re still here.

And that’s enough.