Dear Readers, Thanksgiving was weird this year. I was in Portugal, where the holiday isn’t exactly a thing, and it was just a regular ol’ Thursday. It started with a thud. The rosemary bush I’d lovingly decorated to serve as a tiny Christmas tree for my son’s room had toppled over, scattering lights and ornaments across the floor. One ornament, in particular, broke my heart — a limited-edition clay piece gifted to me in the ’90s by my university mentor, my “college mom.” It depicted the San Marcos River alongside Old Main and the Alkek Library. Priceless, irreplaceable and now in pieces.
I spent the morning hunting down shards of the ornament, painstakingly gluing it back together. From the front, you’d barely notice the cracks, but I knew they were there. The experience left me broken. My Thanksgiving feast for one was eaten on the floor, accompanied by back-to-back rom-coms. It wasn’t exactly festive, but I did learn how to lose a guy in a week and a half as well as how to keep a younger guy as long as I am Anne Hathaway. It was my way of self-care, and I have no regrets about eating pie ala mode in my bed.
But by the time you’re reading this, my son will be here for the holiday break — finally! After missing the last few Christmases together because he wasn’t allowed to travel, we’re about to have our first European holiday as a duo. I can hardly contain myself.
We’re going all-in on a “Pink Christ- mas” theme. Pink tree, pink ornaments, pink treats — everything pink. When I showed some friends my decor, they asked if my theme was perhaps “Barbie” or “Pink Pony Club.” I told them, “yes, and...?”
In true improv spirit, my son embraced the pink madness with the same “yes, and...” attitude. When I floated the idea of us wearing matching pink pajamas while watching holiday movies, not only did he agree (swoon), but he took it further: “I could wear them to school for pajama day. The other kids would prolly get a kick out of seeing me in pink PJs.”
Reader, I melted. He’s such a sweetie. In preparation for his arrival, I’ve been crafting up a storm — pink paper chains, a faux pink-brick fireplace mantle for stockings, yadda pink yadda. Did I mention I’m excited?
Our Pink Christmas isn’t just a theme; it’s a celebration of joy, togetherness, and a fresh start. Looking at that glued-together SWT ornament, I see a reminder that life doesn’t always go as planned. Things break or fall apart, and sometimes we have to put the pieces back together.
Pink is often associated with vulnerability and tenderness, and that’s exactly what this Christmas feels like: vulnerable, tender and new. But we’ve been here before. When my son came into this world, he was all those things, too. Even a baby’s skull adapts, bends and grows stronger as it heals.
This Christmas, I’m moving through this season with love, wonder, gratitude and a spirit ready for renewal. No matter how many times we have to glue our ornaments — or our lives — back together, it’s the memories they carry that keep us whole. And this year, our hearts might be pink, and they’re anything but fragile. XOXO,
Kelly Stone is an educator, comedian, mother, and author who loves the heck outta the river. She welcomes e-letters at kellystone.org or kellystonecomedy@ gmail.com and ad.ores handwritten notes and postcards via good ol’ snail mail: R das Combatentes da Grande Guerra 47, FRAC R, Aveiro, Portugal 3810-087
