A Gentle Christmas for Every Heart

Christmas week crept into the building the way it always does, sneaky and sparkly and slightly unruly. Someone hung tinsel around a pallet like it was a Christmas tree that had lived a hard life. A mug of peppermint cocoa sat on the counter, still warm, with a note taped to it that said “Do not touch,” which of course only made everyone want to touch it. Jason swore he heard jingle bells in the warehouse, which probably means he needs sleep. 

The first real conversation of the morning was about Santa. It started normally enough until someone quietly admitted they still haven’t wrapped a single gift. Brandy said Santa must have interns. Kai wondered how the man manages global logistics without melting down. Tamara laughed and said if Santa saw what inflation did this year, he’d outsource half the list to thrift stores. Suddenly the room felt united in the universal truth that December tests the soul in a very specific way. 

                                               

Talk drifted to the salaries that evaporate like steam from a cinnamon pot. Someone said their paycheck lasted six minutes this month. Someone else said they’re convinced Christmas invented time travel because their money disappeared before they even spent it. Everyone nodded. It felt strangely healing. 

Then came the stories. The real ones. The office shared tales you usually only hear in corners of the internet. The aunt who critiques every dish before tasting it. The cousin whose gift wrapping looks like a crime scene. The sibling who buys outrageously thoughtful presents that make everyone else look like they tried zero percent. The uncle who turns holiday conversations into survival exercises. None of it mean. Just the kind of imperfect chaos people secretly adore because it means they’re home. 

In the middle of all that laughter, Brandy brewed a pot of cinnamon and cloves, and the steam curled into the room like the season telling everyone to breathe. You could feel the tone shift. Softer. Warmer. More human. Herbs always do that. They slip into the moment and give it shape. Ginger glowing in a mug. Lavender tucked into someone’s bag. Nutmeg drifting across the air like a hint of sweetness the day didn’t know it needed. 

Someone said Christmas week never matches the picture-perfect images on cards. It’s messier. It’s louder. It’s funnier. It’s people stumbling through tradition with good intentions and questionable judgment. And somehow that’s what makes it beautiful. The room agreed. Even the tired people. 

Starwest always feels different this week. There’s laughter where there should be stress. There’s calm where there should be chaos. There’s peppermint in the air even when no one admits to brewing it. Maybe that’s December’s real magic. Or maybe it’s the herbs. Or maybe it’s just people choosing kindness because the year is almost over and everyone is hanging on by a cinnamon stick. 

Whatever it is, it makes the week glow a little. 

From our table to yours, may your days hold warmth, may your gatherings hold grace, and may Santa treat your bank account with more compassion than he treated ours. 

Merry Christmas from Starwest.