Journal Entry: December 30, 2024
The packing has begun. Today, as I prepared to leave for Malaga, Spain, it was a curious experience to see how my traditional rituals for cleaning and prepping the house weren’t about removing the remnants of Christmas but about setting the stage for something new. Instead of clearing away the last bits of tinsel and wrapping paper, I was organizing and packing for sunshine. The act of preparation felt different—lighter, almost like I was packing away the darkness of the last few months with each item folded neatly into my suitcase.
I feel like I haven’t seen the sun in months. The days have been dark and gray, and it has weighed on my soul in a way that’s hard to put into words. It's not just about the weather; it’s about what the absence of light does to my spirit. I know and trust that when we land in Malaga, the blue skies will greet me. Even though we won’t arrive until after 6 p.m. on December 31st, I trust that the sunset will linger in the sky, casting a golden glow as we descend. There’s something about that light that feels healing, like it can touch the soul in ways other things can’t.
The air after a day of sunshine is different—crisp, fresh, vibrant. I can already imagine it in my lungs. So unlike the stale, damp air that settles into every corner when the skies remain overcast for weeks. It’s a strange thing to acknowledge, but the lack of sunlight has a tangible impact on my mental health. I often find myself fighting the urge to escape, not because I’m running from anything specific, but because it feels like the weight of the grayness is too much to bear. I don’t even know how to explain it to others—this craving for light, for energy, for warmth. Sometimes it feels overwhelming, and I wonder how others handle this feeling.
So, I continued with my ritual of cleaning. Wiping down cabinets, clearing out the refrigerator of leftovers, and sorting through what no longer served. There’s something deeply therapeutic about this ritual, about clearing the physical clutter as a way of cleansing the mind. I found myself also doing a little “purge” in the kitchen, throwing away foods soon to expire and organizing the cabinets. Then, I baked banana bread—a creation born out of the remnants of Christmas ingredients. Perhaps, to a baking expert, the recipe might have seemed questionable, but for me, it was a loving act. The leftover butter, overripe bananas, half-empty flour bag, and stray spices all found their place in the bowl, stirred together with a sense of hope and intention. The result? A sweet and nourishing loaf that tasted like love and comfort. It’s funny to think about it now—the irony of blending the leftovers into something new and sweet. But then again, the Christmas season was all about blending moments of love and connection into something beautiful, something nourishing. Maybe that’s why the bread tasted delightful despite its imperfect ingredients.
The day’s tasks also made me think about the current challenge of travel. Hamburg, which is just a 45-minute drive away, is no longer a viable airport for us. Now, we face a 3.5-hour drive to Billund, Denmark. The flights have become so unaffordable for our family due to the never-ending bureaucracy and the frustrating battles with discount airlines. It seems the people in Schleswig-Holstein, and those living in the far north of Germany, are somewhat captive to these price hikes and flight limitations. It’s as if we’re stuck, with school holidays only making the problem worse. The cost of flights during this time is so inflated that it feels impossible to get away.
What’s more frustrating is that even RyanAir, once a reliable low-cost option, has now decided to stop flying out of Hamburg altogether, starting in April. They’ll now operate out of Lübeck, just a 20-30 minute drive from our house, but with only three destinations and prices during school holidays that are 10 times higher than normal. It’s maddening. But as I sit here and dwell on these logistical frustrations, I realize something: the focus on flight prices and the lack of availability is a distraction. I am diverting my attention to something external rather than looking inward, where there’s something deeper calling my attention.
In the spirit of intentionality, I ask myself: What does my soul truly long for right now? What is it that is calling my attention? As I think about my rituals of cleansing after the holidays, packing for this upcoming adventure, and reflecting on the desires that lie beneath the surface of my thoughts about money, education, and family, I realize that the distractions are just that—distractions. My soul longs for peace, for renewal, for a chance to breathe deeply in the sunshine. I long for the kind of transition that comes not just from a change of place, but from a deepening of connection with the people I love.
Speaking of love, I’ve been coordinating with my dear friend J—who feels more like a sister. We’ve been planning our time together in Malaga, where we’ll celebrate the New Year with good food, laughter, and plenty of memories to add to our collection. I can think of no better way to mark the transition into the new year than with her by my side, grounding me in joy and intentional mindfulness.
As I pack, as I prepare for the next chapter, I trust that this journey will bring the light my soul is craving—not just from the sun, but from the people, the places, and the moments of connection along the way. Here’s to new beginnings.
