"Anna lit the candle later than ever that December. She had kept it in a drawer for months, as if it were a small promise she was not yet sure she wanted to keep.The year had not been generous: too many difficult decisions, and too many hours that never seemed to be her own. She had dinner alone, with the radio murmuring familiar Christmas carols and a dish that stirred no emotion in her. When she turned off the dining-room light, only the candle flame remained, dancing softly on the table. Its warm glow reminded her, without warning, of that place by the sea where she had always managed to breathe differently. She had not thought about it for months. She had not been back for years.

-— Sumus, she murmured, almost under her breath.

She opened a notebook and, on the first page, wrote a single word: Return. She added no dates. No plans. Just that word. That night, she did not ask for miracles—only one simple thing: that the new year might give her back her calm.

When she woke up the next morning, the coffee smelled of normality. And for the first time in a long while, that felt wonderful.

In her email inbox, there was an old message she had never opened. It read: 

“Return to where you were happy.” 

Anna smiled. She did not take it as fate, nor as an obligation. She opened the window, let the cold air in, and took a deep breath. She did not book anything. She did not promise anything. But she felt something new, unexpected: desire. And that, that Christmas, was already a great deal."

Christmas is that strange moment of the year when everything seems to move faster, yet inside we often feel tired. It is a time for taking stock, for memories that return, and for silences that weigh heavily. There are places that are not only visited, but remembered.