This time of year does something to me.
The noise softens. The world slows just enough
That I can feel what’s been there all along.
And somehow, without trying,
Everything keeps circling back to you.
When the air turns cold and lights appear in windows,
I don’t think about gifts or tradition first.
I think about closeness. About warmth that isn’t forced.
About how being near the right person
Can make even silence feel full.
You do that.
You make things feel lighter—
Not because life gets easier,
But because it finally feels shared.
Hope sits higher this time of year,
And I realize it’s not the season doing that.
It’s you standing in it with me.
Love doesn’t feel like a grand promise or a perfect story—
It feels like choosing, again and again,
To stay open. To stay present. To stay here.
There’s something honest about winter.
No distractions. No pretending.
Just what’s real, and what we hold close.
And what I hold close is you—
Not loudly, not carelessly,
But with intention.
If there’s magic in Christmas,
It’s this:
That love doesn’t need to be extravagant to be powerful.
That connection can be quiet and still change everything.
That when the world pulls us inward,
I find myself drawn to you.
And that feels like enough.
More than enough.