A Soft December (Even When the Month Is Full)

December feels different this year.

Not quieter. I’m still running around, still going to events, still filling my evenings with gløgg, singing, Christmas markets, and whatever small tradition catches my attention that day. But there’s a softness underneath it all. A pause that doesn’t mean doing less — just doing things that bring me back to myself.

It’s been a full year.

A new job.

Starting the blog.

Getting involved in so many parts of Nordvest.

Becoming a Gusmester at Heat Harmony, which still feels surreal to write.

Almost every month came with something new — a skill, a community, a collaboration, a version of myself I didn’t expect. I didn’t plan for 2025 to be such a “yes” year, but here we are.

So December, even with all its activity, feels like a reward.

Not an empty calendar — just a gentler one.

Not silence — just softness.

The month has already been, and will continue to be, a mix of ordinary days and small rituals. Three Christmas lunches. A pot of risengrød at home. Christmas markets. Volunteering for the cookie-decorating workshop. A Christmas quiz at Gamma. A gløgg night. My cousin visiting. A concert or two I haven’t even chosen yet. Community singing. All the little things that help me land in the season.

It’s activity, but chosen.

Movement, but warm.

A month filled in a way that feels good.

I’m working until the evening of the 23rd, and then comes my favorite week of the year — that strange, timeless stretch where everything slows, the city empties a bit, and I finally have space to breathe. I’ll spend it at home with my husband, doing the home improvements we never get to during the year. Reading. Writing. Maybe a few saunagus sessions. Maybe nothing at all — which is its own kind of luxury.

And yes, I’m already thinking about next year.

It feels slightly embarrassing to say out loud — New Year’s resolutions always feel a bit cliché — but there’s a reason we keep coming back to them. December is a hinge month: one door closing, one not yet open. A natural moment to look back, and then forward, and then settle somewhere in between.

This isn’t my “what I learned this year” piece (that one is coming).

And it’s not the “how Nordvest has changed” article either.

This is just the middle space.

The soft pause between what was and what will be.

A December that’s full, festive, cozy, and reflective.

A December spent mostly in my neighborhood, doing things that make me happy, without rushing or performing or overthinking.

A December that lets me land.

A full month, but a gentle one.

An active, thoughtful pause I definitely needed.