tis the damn season

"Sweet dreams of holly and ribbon"

The scent of cinnamon and pine filled the air as I wandered through the decorated aisles of the downtown shopping center. Twinkling lights adorned every window display, casting a warm glow on the bustling crowds. Families laughed, children tugged at their parents' sleeves, and holiday music played softly in the background.

"Juliette, how about this for your dad?" my mom asked, holding up a sleek leather wallet. She stood by one of those pop-up gift stands, her scarf wrapped tightly around her neck.

I stepped closer, running my fingers over the smooth leather. "Yeah, that's nice. He could use a new one."

She smiled, tossing it into the shopping bag hanging from her arm. "One down. A million more to go."

I laughed softly, even though my thoughts were far from festive. We had been out for hours, checking off names from our list, but I was distracted. Every time I tried to focus on the task at hand, my mind drifted back to Rafe.

"Okay," Mom said, turning to me. "Now, let's find something for Sarah and Kiara. Maybe something matching?"

I nodded absentmindedly, scanning the nearby display of cozy scarves and gloves. My mom paused, watching me closely. "You've been quiet today. Everything okay?"

I hesitated, shrugging. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just tired."

Her eyes narrowed. "Hmm. You've said that a few times this week. What's really going on?"

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. "It's... complicated."

"Complicated how?" She moved closer, her voice softening. "Is it about Rafe?"

I froze, caught off guard. "How did you—?"

"Juliette, I'm your mother," she said with a gentle smile. "I notice things. Especially when my daughter is torn up over someone."

I looked down, tracing the edge of a display shelf with my fingertip. "He's... different now. Or at least, he says he is. He's been clean for months, going to therapy. He even invited me to dinner with his family the other night."

"And how did that go?"

"It was... weird," I admitted. "It wasn't terrible, but I kept waiting for something to go wrong. It didn't, though. He was calm, respectful. It was like he really was trying."

She studied me for a moment, then tilted her head toward a nearby bench. "Come on. Let's sit for a minute."

I followed her, sinking onto the bench as she set our shopping bags at our feet. The cold air nipped at my cheeks, but it felt grounding.

"You're wondering if you should trust him again," she said gently.

I nodded. "And now, with Christmas coming up... I don't know if I should get him something. I mean, what would it even mean? That I forgive him? That I'm ready to let him back in? I'm not sure I'm there yet."

She placed a hand on mine, squeezing lightly. "Buying a gift doesn't have to mean all that. Sometimes, a gift is just a gesture. A way to say, 'I see you. I acknowledge your effort.'"

"But what if it gives him the wrong idea?" I asked, my voice small.

"Then you make sure it doesn't. Be clear about your boundaries. If you decide to give him something, keep it simple. Thoughtful, but not too personal."

I mulled over her words, staring at the shoppers rushing past us. "I guess I'm scared that if I give him anything, I'm opening the door too wide. Like I'm saying everything's okay when it's not."

Mom leaned back, folding her arms across her chest. "It's okay to be cautious. But it's also okay to acknowledge progress. You've always been someone who believes in people, Juliette. Don't lose that part of yourself just because you've been hurt."

I exhaled, the tension in my shoulders easing a little. "You're right. I just... don't want to get it wrong."

"You won't," she said confidently. "Trust yourself. And if you decide he doesn't deserve a gift yet, that's okay too. This is your journey."

For a moment, we sat in comfortable silence, the distant sound of carolers filling the air. Finally, I stood up, grabbing our bags. "Let's go. We still have Sarah and Kiara to shop for."

Mom smiled, standing up beside me. "And maybe you'll find something for Rafe along the way. Or maybe not. Either way, you'll figure it out."

As we walked back into the crowd, I felt a little lighter. I didn't have all the answers yet, but I was starting to realize that maybe I didn't need them right now. Christmas wasn't about solving everything—it was about small steps, gestures that reminded people they weren't alone.

"I'll be over by the jewelry," Mom said, giving me a knowing glance. "Take your time."

I nodded, my eyes already drifting across the shelves. Part of me wasn't even sure why I walked in here. I wasn't planning on buying Rafe anything, and yet... I couldn't stop thinking about it. Maybe Mom was right. Maybe I could find something simple, something that acknowledged his effort without sending the wrong message.

I wandered deeper into the store, my fingers brushing over soft wool scarves and polished wooden figurines. Nothing felt right. Everything was either too impersonal or too intimate.

Then, near the back of the store, a small display caught my eye. A collection of leather journals sat neatly stacked on a rustic wooden table. They weren't flashy—just simple, well-made, and practical. The leather covers were soft but sturdy, each one slightly different in shade and texture.

I picked one up, running my fingers over the embossed edges. The smell of leather was rich and familiar. It reminded me of the journal Rafe used to keep when we were younger, back before everything went off the rails. He used to sketch in it—boats, waves, even landscapes. When things got bad, he stopped. I wondered if he missed it, if part of him wanted to create again but didn't know how to start.

"Do you need help?" The shopkeeper, an older woman with kind eyes, appeared beside me.

"No, I'm just looking," I said, smiling politely.

Her gaze fell on the journal in my hands. "That's a good one. Made locally. Durable, but soft enough to carry everywhere. A good companion for someone who needs to get their thoughts out."

I hesitated. Was this too much? Too personal? But something in my gut told me it wasn't. It was a small, quiet gesture. A way of saying, I see you. I remember who you are.

"Do you have pens to go with it?" I asked.

She smiled. "Right over here."

She led me to a display of handcrafted pens made from polished wood and metal. I selected a dark walnut pen, its weight balanced and solid in my hand. It felt right—thoughtful, but not over the top.

As I carried the journal and pen to the counter, I felt a strange mix of nerves and resolve. This wasn't about rekindling everything with Rafe or pretending the past didn't happen. It was about acknowledging his effort to change and offering him something small to encourage the good in him.

When I met my mom by the jewelry section, she raised an eyebrow at the items in my hands. "Found something?"

I nodded. "Yeah. It felt right."

She smiled softly. "Then it probably is."

We paid for our things and stepped back out into the cold evening air. The weight of the gift in my bag felt heavier than it should, but it wasn't a bad feeling. It was a reminder that, despite everything, I still believed in hope.

And maybe, just maybe, I could find a way to give that to Rafe without losing myself in the process.