Warmth
I spent my first Christmas away from my family in 2018. I had moved to Los Angeles that January, and my partner and I were still getting used to living together. I met him in Florida at the tail end of 2016; by the summer of 2017, he was in Los Angeles and we were in a long-distance relationship that felt naive and tentative. Neither of us expected to commit to a long-distance relationship, especially not for a relationship as new as ours. But by January of 2018 I was in Los Angeles with him, my furniture sold, my books in transit.
2018 was a tense year. I was unhappy at my job and we lived, briefly, in a too-small apartment. Resentment blossomed in my relationship like a thicket of morning glories, our happiness resplendent half the time and folded inward the other half. I worried that he felt obligated to make this work since I’d adjusted my life so much by moving to Los Angeles; he worried that I’d be unhappy and alone. As the holidays neared, we made a decision not to go home for Christmas- instead, we booked an AirBnB in Joshua Tree, just us two. We packed swimsuits we’d peel off while in the hot-tub under the stars; we downloaded podcast episodes for the drive.
Our house in the desert of Joshua Tree came equipped with beautiful linen robes and blankets, soft towels and sheets. The sky above us was so free of light pollution that at night the stars glistened. I’m confident that that Christmas trip to Joshua Tree helped heal us. We reconnected, talked over games of chess and cups of coffee; we laughed at each other’s stories and helped each other climb rocks. And we created a new tradition: Christmas elsewhere, just us.
We spent Christmas 2019 in Sequoia. My favorite memories of that trip include the incredible Christmas dinner we had at the local tavern and walking together in the silence of the national park at 7AM. For 2020 we focused on finding a cozy space, knowing we wouldn’t be walking around or frequenting restaurants. We drove seven hours north to Sonoma, California’s wine country, and hunkered down in a cabin for Christmas.
When we arrived, the cabin was cold. Shockingly cold. On the intimate lane where our cabin sat nestled into the redwoods, chimneys dispersed smoke from other cabins. All of the cabins relied on a wood-burning stove for heat, and beside each cabin there sat stacks of chopped wood ready to be burned. There were a few space heaters plugged in across our cabin but it became clear to me that if we didn’t get the wood-burning stove working properly, we’d be too cold to be happy. Our tradition would be ruined.
I panicked. I prowled the town’s Safeway, buying different kinds of starter logs and kindling. I smiled at the locals and pretended to know what I was doing. And although we didn’t get the stove exactly right that first night, we got cozy enough with the space heaters and electric blanket to let loose. We ate, spun Abba’s Greatest Hits on the record player, swayed our bodies in ways we only seem to be able to do when we’re free from the minutiae of the everyday. My panic fell quiet. And then the cabin’s power went out.
With no power we had no internet and neither of us had cell service. It was 8PM. The phrase “this is ruined” rang in my head until I finally gave up and went to bed, where my partner and I had a terrible night of sleep. But our bodies interlaced in ways they hadn’t since our days of being long-distance. I needed his body, the weight of him, on those rare weekends we got to spend together in 2017 because I needed validation, confirmation that he was still present. That he wasn’t leaving. We’re engaged now and my need of validation has lessened. I clung to his body that cold night in the cabin not out of fear he’d leave but out of an assurance that he’d stay.
In the morning we contacted the owners and got the power back on. After, I no longer felt panic about the trip or about the lack of warmth. I wasn’t intimated by the wood-burning stove any longer. I brought armfuls of logs to our space and lit it expertly. I kept an eye on the burning wood and added more when needed, stoking the burnt ash and embers periodically. We did nothing but nap on and off, read, and eat that day. We huddled close together in front of the fire I created and relaxed. I thought a lot about the concept of warmth- how lovely the heat of a fire I created felt, how tremendously comforting it felt to nurture flames into a continued burning.
We plan on keeping the Christmas tradition going. And when we forge new traditions for our family, I hope they bring the warmth the fireplace brought to us. The warmth of my partner’s body beside mine in the freezing cold.
READING: I set my Goodreads reading challenge at 75 books for 2020 and surpassed it, totaling 92 books read (add me on Goodreads! @fictitiouserika). I highlighted my top 25 books of the year on Instagram as well as my top five favorites:
My top 25 books read in 2020 (staring from 25 and working to #1): Indelicacy by Amina Cain (fiction, novel); The Book of Delights by Ross Gay (nonfiction, essays); Why I Wake Early by Mary Oliver (poetry); Orange World by Karen Russell (fiction, short stories); Women Talking by Miriam Toews (fiction, novel); Edendale by Jacquelyn Stolos (fiction, novel); Sing To It by Amy Hempel (fiction, short stories); The Woman Who Fell From the Sky by Joy Harjo (poetry); Freshwater by Akwaeke Emezi (fiction, novel); Cowboys Are My Weakness by Pam Houston (fiction, short stories); Transit by Rachel Cusk (fiction, novel); A Fortune For Your Disaster by Hanif Abdurraqib (poetry); Verge by Lidia Yuknavitch (fiction, short stories); Weather by Jenny Offill (fiction, novel); Friday Black by Nana Kwame Adjei-Brenyah (fiction, short stories); The Brutal Language of Love by Alicia Aerian (fiction, short stories); Wild Game by Adrienne Brodeur (nonfiction, memoir); Vacuum In the Dark by Jen Beagin (fiction, novel); Sula by Toni Morrison (fiction, novel); Cleanness by Garth Greenwell (fiction, short stories); How to Do Nothing by Jenny Odell (nonfiction); The Exhibition of Persephone Q by Jessi Jezewska Stevens (fiction, novel); Crudo by Olivia Laing (fiction, novel); Temporary by Hilary Leichter (fiction, novel); Luster by Raven Leilani (fiction, novel).
WATCHING: I have ten episodes remaining of Buffy the Vampire Slayer- I expect a future Substack to be dedicated to all things Buffy (fair warning). I admire Buffy as a character so much, and really have loved witnessing the love between her, Willow, and Xander grow and change. I also binge-watched HBO’s limited series Run starring a favorite actor of mine Domhnall Gleeson and including my beloved Phoebe Waller Bridge. Ultimately, I came out lukewarm on the show. As for film, I recently watched I’m Thinking of Ending Things- which was an emotional viewing for me but one I’ve soured on after (this review is especially helpful in nailing down my thoughts). I also watched Casablanca for my first time and fell in love with Ingrid Bergman. I’m hoping to watch HBO’s The Flight Attendant next.
OTHER: Yoga with Adrienne is a beloved YouTube channel in our home. We are participating in Adrienne’s new 30 day yoga journey titled ‘Breath’. I love practicing nightly with my partner, and Adrienne is a very soothing and empathetic teacher for yogis of any level. I observed the passing of 2020 and the start of 2021 via a lot of journaling, especially using the exercises created by YogaGirl. The YogaGirl Podcast helped me navigate the emotional turmoil of 2020- I highly recommend these practices, especially if you’re not feeling particularly energized to set resolutions or goals this year.