I had a million things to do before Christmas: finish work, buy gifts, wrap presents, and somehow keep up with all the holiday chaos. I could hardly remember the last time I’d actually enjoyed the season. For me, Christmas had become a series of tasks to be checked off, one after another.

As I passed a small, quaint café, something caught my eye. A young woman stood outside, carefully arranging a small stand of festive poinsettias. Her focused expression contrasted with the flurry of people walking past, oblivious to the beauty of the moment. I stopped, not knowing why, but something about her calmness in the madness of the holiday rush made me pause.

I glanced at my watch. Another five minutes, and I had to keep moving. But when the woman looked up and smiled softly, I felt an unexpected warmth spread through me, something I hadn't felt in a long time.

"Excuse me," I said, feeling slightly awkward but compelled to speak, "Are you selling those?"

She laughed, a light, musical sound. "No, I just like arranging them. It’s my little tradition."

I smiled, nodding. "I can see why. They’re beautiful." The words seemed inadequate, but she just smiled again, as though she understood. I turned to leave, but then stopped. "Might I ask… what’s your tradition for Christmas?"

She tilted her head, considering my question. "I always take a moment to slow down. To breathe, enjoy the little things, like these flowers or the lights in the streets. Christmas is for slowing down, not rushing through it."

Her words hit me harder than expected. In my rush to get everything done, I'd forgotten what the holiday was really about.

I took a deep breath, realizing how much I needed to change my pace. "Maybe I need a new tradition," I said, smiling at her.

"Maybe you do," she replied, her smile warm.

And for the first time in years, I felt like I could slow down, even if just for a moment, and let the season in.

"Coffee?" I prayed in my thoughts that she would agree.