Connexion
Nanami and her husband Ryo live on the edge of London. Most of their friends already have kids. They wanted to as well, but life went differently.
Her body couldn’t carry a child. That truth was hard to accept. For a few years, it just sat there in silence. Eventually, they adopted three cats. They became their little family.
As time passed, friends with children started drifting away. Messages became rare. Weekends felt too quiet.
“When everyone around you starts having kids, you try to be happy for them,” Nanami says. “But sometimes it’s hard not to feel left out.”
One day, her cousin introduced her to a man named Teo. Through him, she met more people, designers, students, people from everywhere. Teo once said, “You two should host something. You have such a cosy home.”
Nanami laughed. “We don’t even have many friends.”
He smiled and said, “Then I’ll bring mine.”
And he did. People came from Japan, Portugal, India, Taiwan, France, and the UK. The flat felt different.
“Teo’s friends didn’t drink alcohol,” Nanami says. “That surprised me. In London, there’s always alcohol at gatherings. But that night, people just cooked, played games and talked. It felt so comfortable.”
Now they meet every few months, and every holiday, they host a small get-together before everyone flies home. “I’m older than most of them,” she says, “but they feel like my kids now. It’s rare for younger people to spend time with us. I love it.”
People always bring little things here. “Some of them were so cool, I wanted to show you some”.
A diffuser from Airy Fragrances.
My friend said, “You always talk about picking osmanthus in Tokyo when you were little. I thought this might remind you of home.” The scent was soft, floral, and familiar. “It really did smell unique and nice. You can tell when something is made with care.”
A box of floral cakes.
A friend brought them from Yokohama. They looked too beautiful to eat. “Usually, pretty food tastes awful,” Nanami laughs. “But these were different. Soft, light, kind of between a biscuit and a cloud.”
A Bluetooth flower speaker.
A Taiwanese friend handed it to her and said, “This feels like you.”
Nanami laughed again. “I didn’t know if that was a compliment, but I love it. It looks romantic, and we use it every time people visit.”
At the end of the year, when the house fills with people, the feeling is different from before. There’s no turkey or Christmas tree. There’s just good food on the table, friends talking in different languages, music playing softly, and a warm scent in the room.
“When the house smells good and there’s conversation and movement, it feels like a place people want to stay,” she says.
“I used to think Christmas was only for people with families and big dinners. But now I just make my own version. And I like it.”
So if you’re spending the holidays alone, don’t wait. Invite someone. Or cook something simple you enjoy. Or light something that makes your home feel good.
That counts too. That’s still Christmas.
If this felt familiar, you’re not alone.
Read more real holiday stories at Airy Lounge.
