Smile

The holiday season flew by, from latkes and lights to comfort and joy, from shopping and gifting, to festive meals and gatherings with family and friends, captured forever with a deft touch of a finger on a screen.

And before we knew it, the glittery ball dropped at Times Square, and Tom Hanks met Meg Ryan on top of the Empire State Building, and I am tearing up with my one and only wrapped in a warm quilt in front of the TV.

In a flash, 2025 became 2026.

What a year it has been.

So it was with the turmoil at home and abroad, the incessant news, I found myself looking for the little things this season, those things that made me smile, that brought me comfort, even joy.

The Hanukkiah glowing in the window, the homemade latkes my grand kids gobbled up, my neighbors’ homes strung with colorful lights, the glimpse of beautifully decorated Christmas trees inside.

And the giddy anticipation of kids and even those well beyond, with Santas in the mall, Silent Night on the radio, and holiday movies on TV.

Pure happiness.

And a balm for the spirit.

It chased away my inner Scrooge, who sometimes appears as the holiday frenzy descends, the hoards of shoppers, the roads jammed with winter visitors, the airports swarmed with travelers, with seats to just about anywhere at a premium.

It was easy this year to put it aside, even as I braved the mall or the airport.

I gazed with delight at the traveling families, often three generations, the little ones buoyant, the older ones gently trying to corral them as they made their way through the crowds.

More smiles, maybe even a helping hand, as folks boarded, lugging over stuffed carry-ons and gaily wrapped packages struggling to slip them under a seat or stuff into the overhead.

And deplaning, catching sight of grandparents, or parents, or kids or grands, waiting and watching for loved ones flying into outstretched arms with exuberant hugs.

Pure joy.

And, then, traveling by train, spying passengers juggling towers of bakery boxes filled with holiday goodies and shlepping shopping bags with more, and those balancing foil covered pans on their laps, the tempting scents wafting through the car.

And on the return, those clutching zip locks of leftovers, or stacks of containers, another meal or two for those older folks who no longer cook, or those families struggling to feed a brood, or those youngsters trying to make it day to day on a tight budget.

I noticed it all.

And smiled.

And I realized that I was hungry, not only for a forkful of stuffing or mashed potatoes, lovingly prepared, and carried, or a hunk of cheese cake or a gooey brownie or two, but for the sense that even in this crazy world, there is still the capacity for joy, for celebration.

And for love.
For generosity.
For kindness.

I swish through my photo stream, and revel in the happy faces of those I love best, of the memories made this holiday season, and resolve this year to savor the little things we share, that bring light into the world, that infuse our lives with meaning, that give us hope.

That make us smile.

As the new year begins, may it be so