You know, I no longer wait for Christmas. As a child, you believed it was a time for miracles. In your youth, you understood it as a time of hope, if not miracles. It was a time when the house was full of guests and relatives, and the table was set with 12 traditional dishes. In fact, we didn’t just have 12; there were many more because so many people gathered around the table.
War has changed everything: relatives are far away, and we no longer gather around a big table.The house has already suffered from shelling, and as you walk down the hallway, you try not to look at the holes in the walls, cabinets, and doors. Only occasionally, you find yourself pulling pieces of shrapnel from the walls.
The miracle seems absent because the war reminds you that being alive and at home is already a miracle—a miracle made possible every day by our armed forces.
So, I stopped waiting for the holiday. But, as one very kind person once said, "The language of chocolate is universal." And it truly is.
A huge thank you to Erik Helgesplass, Karin Ellis, and their team for this little miracle. A book, chocolate, and cosmetics—these small things bring a feeling of peace, and they truly warm the soul.
Merry Christmas!!!