December has a rhythm all its own, rushing and slowing down simultaneously, often throwing caution to the wind. At work we are catapulted into end-of-the year rush and reports, families are planning trips home, coordinating menus and gifts, and simply looking forward to the comfort of family ties. Streets glow with lights, carols drift through windows, and the scent of pine and cinnamon seems to linger everywhere, but for many, the season also brings the quiet ache of absence: missing home, missing traditions, missing the familiar faces that make the holidays feel complete.
For those who serve in the army, navy, air force, hospitals, or behind the controls of planes, being away from home is a reality they navigate year after year. But within that distance, a different kind of magic emerges. Add journalists, medical personnel in war zones, and even flight crews who will be on plane instead of gracing a table to the list. Through it all, there is a saving grace. It’s the magic of chosen families: the friends, colleagues, and companions who gather around makeshift tables, exchange stories, laugh through exhaustion, and carry each other through moments of longing.
This magic is slower than the rush of shopping, the press of calendars, or the frenzy of holiday planning. It’s quiet. It’s noticing the way someone else pours coffee the way your grandmother used to, or the way a shared joke lifts the heaviness of the season. It’s savouring the small rituals, a decorated office corner, a late-night phone call home, a shared playlist of familiar carols, and feeling, in those small gestures, a deep sense of presence and belonging.
©Maike Herzog
Being part of a chosen family doesn’t erase the absence of home, but it reshapes it. The laughter, warmth, and care you give and receive in these spaces becomes a different kind of home, one built intentionally, with compassion and understanding, where every story, smile, and act of kindness matters.
December teaches us that home is not just a place, and family is not only who you were born to. Sometimes, it’s the people you choose to show up for, the ones who help you slow down and see the season for what it truly is: a collection of moments, small and deliberate, where love and connection are woven into the ordinary.
It is in that slowing down, in that noticing, in that presence, the slow magic of December unfolds, not as a calendar of tasks, but as a rhythm of hearts, chosen and cherished, creating a home wherever they may be. Snowflakes settle softly on shoulders and hats, unnoticed by some but deeply felt by those far from biological family. Each one is a reminder that love transcends distance and that presence, care, and ritual build home wherever we are.
FrogDiva Thoughts 