This morning, snow fell.
Not enough to stay. Not enough to change the day in a practical way. Just a few snowflakes, drifting down quietly, almost shy. And still, it stopped me. I stood there for a second longer than usual, watching them disappear before they touched the ground. That kind of beauty that does not ask for attention, but somehow gets it anyway.
On the drive to school with my oldest, I noticed Christmas was still around. Not loudly. Just in traces. Lights still glowing on a few houses. Trees lined up on the side of the road, waiting to be collected. Christmas feels like it was ages ago, but it has only been a few days. And that felt important. Like the ending of something that is not quite ready to let go.
It felt like a season closing its door slowly. Gently. Leaving the window open just enough to remind you it existed.
When I came back home, I felt this pull. Almost instinctive. I put on music from my childhood. Brazilian hits from the 90s and early 2000s. Music that knew how to be fun without trying too hard. Music that made your body move without asking permission. I smiled almost immediately. Back then, everything felt lighter. We had CDs, not playlists. I carried my Discman everywhere, my backpack full of scratched discs, swapping them with friends like tiny treasures.
Now I search them on Spotify. It is easier. Cleaner. Less messy. And still, something about it feels tender and a little sad in the best way. A reminder that time moves, whether we notice it or not.
I am turning 40 this year.
Saying it out loud feels strange. Like a sentence that does not quite belong to me yet. It is a milestone. The end of my 30s. The beginning of another season. I do not feel 40. Not even close. I also do not feel 20. Somewhere in the middle. Maybe 31 or 32. That is how my body feels. How my energy feels.
Life looks very different now. Three children. Two dogs. A business. Responsibilities stacked in ways my younger self could not imagine. And still, I feel alive. Energised. Present. There is a fullness here that I would not trade.
I still love what I call my granny hobbies. Gardening. Journaling. Scrapbooking. Sewing. Painting. Baking. Cooking. Things that require time and patience. Things that slow me down in a world that rarely does. They make me happy in a quiet, grounded way.
And I think that is what this season is about.
Endings that linger. Beginnings that do not rush. Memories that resurface unexpectedly. Snowflakes that fall and disappear. Christmas lights still glowing after the holiday is gone. Music that reminds you of who you were and gently asks you to notice who you are now.
Life moves in seasons.
Some loud. Some quiet. Some messy. Some tender.
And right now, I am standing right in between.
Always with love ,
Deborah xxx
