This is my first alone Christmas, all by myself, no one else. If this was a few years ago, merely the thought of an empty house without gifts or a Christmas tree would have suffocated this extremely extroverted soul. But at this moment, I’m alone and feeling remarkably peaceful, content, and grateful. Louis Armstrong’s jazz tunes fill the air while I sip on the beer I brought back from Munich in October. I’m letting my thoughts flow freely onto this blank page, the very gift to myself for this solitary Christmas.

Before my divorce, I always spent Christmas with my ex. We’d travel to different places before the holiday week and return home the holiday week, decorating inside and outside the house. On Christmas day we would indulge in good food and then take a walk around the trail in our neighborhood with our dog or sometimes drive to the mountains which is 2 hours one way and hike, then come back the same day. If there was no derailment in life with the pains that came from it, we were good life partners and friends. Looking back at this moment, those ten-plus years of a shared journey feel like a dream now. It feels so strange – no emotional highs or lows, just the memory of a period life experience, like someone else’s story, not mine. Maybe this is what we often call “letting it go.” Throughout all these years, I visited my American mom at least once a year. Following my divorce, spending Christmas with my American mom became a natural tradition. She lives alone, and our souls resonate in perfect harmony. Her soul is among the purest I’ve met in all my years. Time with her feels like heaven on earth, especially after a year packed with work and all the hustle. This year, though, she has other plans, which is why I am spending Christmas alone.

My holiday kicked off with a trip to Colorado to visit my former student. Several years back, lacking specific equipment for a project, I sent him to a national lab in Colorado for six months – a trip that sparked his affection for the mountains. Then he stayed and met his partner, and he still works in the same field. During this trip, I had lunch with his whole working team. Listening to them speaking highly of his personality and work, it was deeply rewarding as his advisor to realize how my work sometimes can impact another human being’s life over time. Later, my student, his partner, and I embarked on a ski trip in the Rocky Mountains, staying in an Airbnb conveniently situated next to a lift, offering breathtaking mountain views. We were supposed to ski for three days. The first day, I was very cautious about the ski runs, due to lingering fears after an arm injury from horseback riding. The relief of skiing without incident was like a victory by day’s end. However, my joyous haste to remove my ski boots led to a sharp pain in my right ankle – a moment that echoed a quote shared by a professor I met recently, ringing all too true. The quote goes: “It ain’t what you don’t know that gets you into trouble. It’s what you know for sure that just ain’t so.” I never thought that taking off my boots would cause me injury…

Skiing typically doesn’t heavily engage the ankle muscles, so despite some initial concern, I opted for an easy green run on the second day. However, the green trail turned out to be rather dull. Within 30 minutes, I found myself atop the mountain, venturing onto a blue trail. Surprisingly, I didn’t experience much discomfort and descended happily, feeling fulfilled. At that moment, I helplessly shook my head, contemplating what a daring soul I was. After that trip, I spent the afternoon in the cozy living room reading my textbook that I plan to teach in the spring semester.  Meanwhile, my student and his partner also took some time to rest before cooking Mexican cuisine in the kitchen, while I was reading. That moment, watching the snowy vista outside the expansive window and listening to their lively kitchen chatter filled me with a warm and fuzzy feeling and deep appreciation for my profession. My job allows me to meet many good students and collaborators, and gradually nurtures lifelong friendships with those birds of the same feather, just like the bond I formed with the student I visited.

Because of my limped ankle, we didn’t ski on the third day and instead indulged in the morning at a hot spring. That evening, they took me to my first live NBA game that shifted dramatically in the final 20 seconds – another reflection of life’s unexpected turns. The Colorado trip was a good one, albeit shadowed by concerns about my sprained ankle. Nobody wishes for injuries, especially for individuals living alone, as daily tasks can become challenging in severe situations.  At times, I genuinely wish I were less inclined to take risks. Engaging in certain adventurous sports and facing two consecutive injuries has intensified my fear of additional harm. Nevertheless, making the decision to quit proves to be immensely challenging for me. Indeed, I tried to give up horseback riding three times, but each attempt ended in failure. I’ve come to accept my nature and now try my best to approach risks with cautious calculation.

Each day, I checked on my sprained ankle, hoping for a speedier recovery before my upcoming trip to Santa Fe, New Mexico. I was in Santa Fe last year for a business trip. I stayed a couple of personal days and stumbled upon a tango lesson there. It turned out I really liked it and my teacher. For this trip, I had eagerly booked a week of lessons, only to be hindered by my sprained ankle. Despite doubts, I made it to Santa Fe and informed my teacher about my injury. We cautiously agreed to proceed as planned.

Tango is intriguing. It demands giving up control and abandoning anticipation, much like our seeking control in life. Meanwhile, regardless of the intensity of emotions stirred up whether by music or dance, one must maintain great control over the body and step on the beat. In the initial days, fear about my ankle made it hard to fully engage. My teacher had to keep me engaged in conversation to divert my attention from my fear. She kept telling me to trust my body and let go of the mind, which I thought was a beautiful lesson for life, too. As my ankle improved, the lessons flowed better. I not only learned more on the dance floor but also developed a stronger bond with my teacher. Every day, I took an Uber from the hotel to the dance studio, and my teacher kindly took me back afterward. We would chat and found we are a similar type of person. During one conversation, I expressed my puzzlement about persisting with tango despite my sprained ankle and without a specific goal to achieve in tango, even if there was no one to tango with me. Her response struck a chord: “My dear, what you’re doing is simply called: LIVING.”

I got home late on December 22nd. The following day, the 23rd, was mostly spent resting and restocking my refrigerator. Today, December 24th, began with making myself an egg spinach omelet before heading to the gym. My plan was to finally finish compiling my tenure package, a task I’d been procrastinating on. Some senior colleagues mentioned spending three months preparing theirs. I had a difficult time understanding why it could take that long and why we need a dossier. In my opinion, a CV, which contains all the necessary data points, is sufficient for decision making. I also feel printing out extensive materials that may go unread is wasteful. When a colleague lent me his hefty dossier, weighing more than 5 pounds, I joked about the fate of these tenure dossiers – will they be buried with us as professors at the end?

Anyway, it could just be my brain finding reasons for being lazy. Rules are rules. But upon arriving at work, I realized I couldn’t find my ID card and was unable to access the building. God seemed to want me to rest this time: no tenure dossier on Christmas Eve. I headed back home in the gloomy weather of heavy rain and decided to buy some flowers. Lacking an umbrella, I dashed into the rain for the sake of the flowers.

Usually, I buy carnations for their delicate petals and longevity. I am a fan of peonies too, but unfortunately, they’re not available in Louisiana. Roses, especially red ones, aren’t my choice at all, possibly because in the well-known storyline the rose doesn’t treat the little prince well. Nevertheless, when I reached the store, most flowers were sold out, and there were no carnations available. I didn’t have much choice but to settle for a bunch of pink roses. At least they weren’t red, and I happily ran back to my car, clutching the roses.

Upon returning home, I placed the roses in a vase, played some Christmas music, and delved into a short story from the book A Moveable Feast detailing Ernest Hemingway’s life in Paris. This book accompanied me throughout my entire trip. I was delighted to discover that Hemingway was an adept skier and even introduced me to a great skiing spot: Schruns. It would be a lot of fun to ski there, especially when considering that Hemingway did the same many years ago with his first wife, Hadley (I like Hadley; the way she was depicted in his book suggests she’s a kind individual with a blend of humor and wisdom). Lost in daydreaming about skiing at the same place Hemingway once did, I drifted off to sleep. After the nap, I took a walk in the heavy rain around my neighborhood. My head started surfacing a feast of all the good: The book I read, the music I listened to, and the wonderful people I’ve met this year. As I glimpsed sparkling Christmas lights and trees through my neighbors’ windows, I wished them a delightful Christmas Eve with their families. Now back in my house alone, I sit and write down these reflections.

Really, this Christmas alone doesn’t feel lonely at all. It truly makes me realize how far I have travelled in the journey of being single. It started with tremendous fear, then slowly I’ve come to appreciate the great companies that come in many forms: friends, books, arts, flowers, the moon, the sun, and many more. I’ve come to realize that life unfolds along various paths, some in the form of partnership, some destined to be walked alone (perhaps mine). Yet, any form if lived to the fullest with wholeheartedness leads to the ultimate home of spirit within oneself: peace, joy, and love. Each life path presents its unique scenery and experiences all worth embracing. Every moment, even in its gloomiest instances, is a feast worthy of us, the living, to relish it. Because simply being alive is already the greatest gift of all.

Merry Christmas to all, and to me! Wish we all embrace this feast of being alive, whether alone or surrounded by loved ones! Go forth and make memories on Christmas and every single day.

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