Anti-consumerist Christmas: spent skinny and alone

Human connection doesn’t have to come from family.

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I love Christmas, but not in the way you’re supposed to.

I don’t bake mince pies, eat turkey, buy presents, or put up a tree.

For me, Christmas isn’t really about the day or even a family, it’s about the feeling — that giddy anticipation that lingers from childhood when you still believed in the magic.

That Christmas feeling always seems to come up in the most random moments:

• Driving home for Christmas on the highway when Chris Rea’s Driving Home for Christmas comes up on the radio.

• Watching a young man crossing the Seine River with a bouquet of daffodils in hand, and someone calling out to him: “Are you looking to get lucky?” Without missing a beat, he shouts back, “No, I think I’m in love!” (this actually happened one Christmas in Paris, out of all places)

• Watching a stranger offer a small, beautiful act of kindness and feeling the world soften for a moment.

You don’t have to “do” Christmas to feel it. Sometimes, just watching others do it is enough.