Hi Friend,

I’m writing this curled up on the couch with a blanket around my legs, the soft glow of a candle flickering on the coffee table, and the faint scent of cinnamon still hanging in the air from the cookies we baked earlier. The house feels a little extra quiet tonight — almost like December itself is exhaling.

Maybe your home feels that way too.

There’s something about the start of winter that always nudges me to slow down… not in the dramatic, “change everything” kind of way, but in the gentle way you might place your hand on someone’s shoulder and say, Hey… take a breath.

So that’s what I’m doing. Taking a breath.
Leaning into the hush of winter.
Letting myself sink into the warmth of home again.

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I think winter is where the real magic lives.

Not the big, loud, glittering stuff… but the tiny bits woven into ordinary days.

Like when the mornings feel softer and everyone moves a little slower.
Like when the kids ask to make “just one more batch” of cookies, and you give in because you know these are the moments that will matter someday.
Like when you all gather around the table with glue sticks and construction paper, making crooked little snowflakes and glitter-covered pinecones that somehow become your favorite decorations.

Winter magic is homemade.
It smells like vanilla and butter and the warmth of an oven.
It looks like mismatched ornaments and crumbs on the counter and a pile of craft supplies you never quite put away.
It feels like love.

And this year… I want more of that.

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The rhythm I’m craving this winter is slower, gentler, more rooted.

Here’s what that looks like in my home lately:

Soft mornings

Dim lights.
A warm drink.
Kids snuggled up under blankets watching the world wake up through frosted windows.
My journal open beside me, not asking for profundity — just honesty, just noticing.

Messy holiday magic

Paper snowflakes scattered across the table.
Flour on everyone’s clothes.
Cookies decorated with way too many sprinkles.
Homemade garlands that don’t match but somehow belong.

A cozy corner just for breathing

A blanket draped over a chair.
A candle that smells like pine.
My journal waiting patiently for me to return.

Simple homemaking

Not the deep-clean-every-corner kind.
But the steady, gentle kind:
One load of laundry, a quick sweep of the floor, warm lights, blankets ready for piling on.
Just enough to make home feel soft.

Memory-keeping without pressure

Snapping photos of cookie hands and paint-covered fingers.
Writing down the funny things my kids say.
Taking mental snapshots of quiet moments I know I’ll want to remember someday.

This is the kind of homemaking that makes my heart feel full — the kind that doesn’t demand perfection, only presence.

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December always brings a little chaos… but also a lot of magic.

There are school events and holiday lists and gifts to wrap and things to plan.
There are expectations — some spoken, some quietly weighing on our hearts.

But here’s what I keep reminding myself:

Our children aren’t asking us for a perfect holiday.
They’re asking us for moments.

The simple ones.
The messy ones.
The cozy, “come help me cut this out” ones.
The “can we make cookies again?” ones.
The ones we barely notice until they’re gone.

Those are the moments that become magic.

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A question for your winter heart:

What do you want this season to feel like — in your home, your motherhood, your memories?

Not the list of things you need to get done…
but the feeling you want to carry with you.

Write it down.
Let that be your compass this month.

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Before I close this letter… I want you to know this:

If your house feels messy right now…
If your to-do list is long…
If you’re tired and trying to do your best…
If you feel like everyone else is doing more, baking more, decorating more, creating more…

You’re not alone.
And you’re doing better than you think.

The magic is already there — in the quiet, in the cozy, in the ordinary.
You don’t have to make it perfect.
You just have to be present.

Winter doesn’t ask for performance.
She whispers for peace.
For warmth.
For softness.
For noticing the beauty that’s been here all along.

I’m choosing that this year.
And if you are too… then we’re doing winter the way it was meant to be lived.

With love,
Aurora 🕯️🤍