Looking Back, Before Moving Forward

Saying Goodbye to 2025

Today, while I was checking my final grocery list, I found myself drifting back through the year, lingering on moments both loud and quiet, joyful and heavy, as if 2025 were asking me to remember it slowly.

I welcomed the year with a bang. My family from the Philippines came to visit, and for a while, life felt like one long, moving postcard. We spent our days out of town, wandering without urgency. I still remember the last days of 2024 walking through Tokyo, letting the city lead us, not knowing that those steps would become memories so quickly. Before returning home, we took an overnight trip to Kawaguchiko, where Mt. Fuji stood before us, calm and unmoving, as if time itself had paused.

This ending of the year feels different.

This time, I’m staying home, choosing stillness, choosing presence. I’ll be spending these days with my family, preparing food made with care and shared around a familiar table. There’s comfort in the ordinary, and now I finally have the space to reflect on how this year shaped me and the lessons it left behind.

2025 was beautiful, even in its struggles. There were moments of confusion and sadness, but there was also so much laughter, unexpected, healing, real. It was a year full of surprises, some gentle, some challenging. Looking back, I feel a quiet pride in myself for enduring, for growing and for learning to listen. It was also a year of rediscovery, a year that allowed me to travel again after a long pause brought on by COVID, reminding me how much I missed movement, wonder, and change.

As the year draws to a close, I find myself thinking about what comes next. I’m making a list, not rushed, not filled with empty promises but with intentions I truly believe in. Goals that feel honest. Goals that feel possible. I want to move forward with patience, with courage, and with trust in my own timing.

So here’s to closing this chapter gently.
To thanking 2025 for what it gave and what it took.
And to welcoming the New Year not with noise or urgency, but with open arms, a hopeful heart, and the belief that something good is waiting.

Getting Ready For The Holidays

Simple moments, big memories.

Starting My Own Cozy Traditions At Home

It’s only a few days until the holidays. Back home, this was always the season of rushing, of leaving the house earlier than planned and still arriving late. I remember spending those days helping my Mom with the groceries. I loved the feeling of my Dad pushing the cart while my Mom carefully checked her list of what to buy. Christmas especially was very special in our family. I remember my Grandma and my Mom teaming up to make the best dishes. Dishes so good that you could feel the holidays in every bite.

Doing the groceries never felt like a chore. For me, it was fun and full of little adventures. My sister, my Dad, and I sneaking a treat or two, only for my Mom to catch us at the cashier. Afterward, my Dad would always insist we stop for a good lunch before heading home, knowing our kitchen would be busy the moment we stepped through the front door. Once home, my Mom, my Grandma, and our house help would dive into preparing the feast, while I joined them, helping however I could.

Growing up surrounded by people who loved to cook, I naturally found joy in being in the kitchen myself, preparing dishes that those I cared about would enjoy. And even in the midst of all the bustling activity, my Dad would occasionally call me away, inviting me to join him as he sang his favorite songs in karaoke. Whenever my favorite song was up next, he made sure I wouldn’t miss it, making the holidays feel full of warmth, laughter, and love.

Since moving to Japan, the holidays have taken on a quieter rhythm, still busy, but softer around the edges. The rush is gentler, the pace calmer. Yet, the spirit of those childhood moments still lingers in me, guiding how I celebrate today.

This year, I’m planning my own cozy traditions: baking Christmas cookies, making my own Christmas cake, enjoying slow mornings with hot coffee, sharing warm meals at home, and having movie nights wrapped in blankets. I imagine laughter, the smell of baked treats, music playing softly in the background, and moments that feel as rich as any big holiday celebration.

As I write my list and imagine these plans, I find myself smiling, thinking, Maybe this is what the holidays are really supposed to feel like—no matter where you are or how the world rushes around you.