On the Ninth Day of a Feminine Christmas

I love these two friends. paused together before a shop window at Christmas. Their delight is unmistakable—faces softened by wonder, shoulder to shoulder in shared pleasure. Even now, with Christmas Day behind us, that feeling still lingers for me, warm and intact.

The days between Christmas and New Year’s seem to hover in a kind of doorway. The new year has not yet announced itself and time has loosened its grip. Obligations drift out of focus, and more than once I’ve stopped and asked myself what day it is. A recent snowfall has kept the world looking decidedly Christmas-y, lending everything an old-fashioned charm. For now, I remain devoted to the season’s quiet riches.

I remember this week from childhood—the snow, the new stuffed animals still carrying their fresh-from-the-shop scent, the picture books from Santa opened and reopened beside a glowing fire. Yes, the gifts have been unwrapped and the clamor has softened, but the true power of Christmas—the gentle joy reflected on the faces of dear friends like these—begins here.