Skip to main content

Holiday Hearts, Snowy Walks & One Very Opinionated Papillon

Every year, like clockwork, people ask me, “So Sabine… how was your Christmas?” And every year I think, Well, how honest do you want me to be? Do you want the Instagram-ready version… or the real one where my Papillon, Blueberry, stole a shortbread cookie straight off the cooling rack?
Now, let me get this out right away before anyone gasps into their peppermint cocoa—I know not everyone celebrates Christmas. Truly. I respect that. I cherish it. I even wholeheartedly agree that the world could probably use fewer rules about when and how we’re “supposed” to feel festive. But I can’t help it: this season is one of my favourites. It’s cozy, it’s sparkly, and it gives me an excuse to wear ridiculous socks with dancing reindeer on them.
Still, holidays aren’t simple. 

They’re beautiful and messy and sometimes heartbreakingly quiet. I remember the Christmas right after my mom passed. Nothing felt quite right. I wasn’t ready to be joyful, or festive, or even upright before noon. I drifted through that season like a snowflake caught in an unexpected gust—slow, confused, and hoping someone would stick out a mitten and catch me.
So if this year has been hard for you… if you’re missing someone… if the lights feel too bright or the music too cheerful… please accept this enormous virtual hug from me. Blueberry insists on adding her own Papillon-approved snuggle, which includes a tiny paw on your arm and that earnest stare she gives right before demanding a treat.
And if this year has been joyful for you—if you’ve been wrapped in warmth, surrounded by the people you love, enjoying cozy fires and sparkling drinks—then I’m sending another hug your way too. A celebratory one. Blueberry says this hug should be paired with a “paws up,” which is her version of a toast.
The truth is, we forget sometimes—between the lights, the presents, the cookies Blueberry absolutely did not steal (she says this with shocking conviction)—that the holiday season is different for everyone. Happiness and heartache often share the same room this time of year. One doesn’t erase the other. And both deserve space.


If you’re able, maybe step outside today. If there’s snow where you live, crunch through it. Listen to the hush of winter around you. Look up at the sky. Let yourself believe that magic is still out there—because it is. I mean, Blueberry (also known as Pixie the Magical Papillon in my books) believes in magic so fiercely that I’m convinced she could summon it single-pawedly if the situation required.


So whether you’re celebrating or just gently surviving the last few days, know this: you’re doing the best you can from where you are. And that’s perfect. Absolutely, wonderfully perfect.
From me and Blueberry—big hugs, warm wishes, and a sprinkle of Papillon stardust on your holiday season.

Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Encyclopedia Was Our Google — And Dad Was Our Search Engine

You know you’re not a digital native when the word “research” makes you smell paper and hear the satisfying thud of a heavy book landing on a table. Welcome to my childhood, where curiosity was rewarded not with Wi-Fi, but with a stack of alphabetically-organized mystery bricks called encyclopedias . Let me take you back. The year? Somewhere in the analog era. The place? Our living room, where we had the entire Bertelsmann encyclopedia collection proudly displayed like it was the crown jewel of human knowledge. We didn’t just own knowledge—we subscribed to it. One glorious volume arrived each month, like an academic advent calendar for nerdy children. Volume “A” to “Z,” with deep sighs of longing in between. I swear, I still remember the day Volume “P” arrived. I rushed to the mailbox like I was expecting a letter from a secret admirer. Nope. Just got the lowdown on Photosynthesis and Peru. But did that stop me from doing a dramatic reading of it over dinner? No, it did not. M...
Post a Comment
Read more

The Glamorous Life of a Writer (Or, Mostly Just Staring at a Screen)

There’s a persistent rumor floating around that writers live thrilling, adventure-filled lives. Perhaps it’s all the dramatic author portraits on book jackets—moody, windswept, staring off into the distance as if contemplating the fate of the world. Perhaps it’s the movies, where writers are always dashing off to Paris to write the next great novel in a charming café (suspiciously never interrupted by spotty Wi-Fi or overpriced croissants). I hate to break it to you, but real writing? Not quite so cinematic. In reality, my writing days mostly involve staring intensely at my screen, willing the words to appear through sheer force of will. Occasionally, I engage in deep philosophical debates with myself—such as whether my protagonist should turn left or right down a hallway (the fate of the fictional world depends on it). And let’s not forget the highly intellectual process of naming characters, which can take hours because somehow every single name I think of is either the name of ...
Post a Comment
Read more

The Absolute Madness of Naming Characters

  Let’s talk about one of the most ridiculous struggles of writing a book. No, I’m not talking about the part where you stare at the blinking cursor like it personally insulted your ancestors. I’m talking about naming characters. It should be easy, right? Just slap a name on them and move on? Oh, my sweet summer child. If only. See, naming a character is like naming your kid—except worse, because nobody is going to complain if your kid and their cousin both end up being named Liam. But if your main villain is named Liam and you accidentally give the quirky coffee shop owner in book three the same name? Cue the existential crisis. Let’s walk through the madness. The Overthinking Spiral of Doom You start writing, and there’s that moment: your brand-new character walks onto the page, full of potential. All they need is a name. A simple name. Something strong, something fitting, something— Oh no. Nothing sounds right. This one is too complicated. That one is too simple. ...
Post a Comment
Read more