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On one Christmas evening, I wandered around our village; a tiny pittoresque Provencal town, sheltered by mountains all around. That night, we were surrounded by thick, soft white fog, clouds hanging so low that the mountains were hidden. There wasn't a soul in the village, everything was closed. I wandered around the narrow cobblestone streets and enjoyed the total silence, the fog covering me like a blanket.

I was all alone but in that moment, not lonely.

Then I saw warm Christmas lights blinking in the only shop that was open, late at night on Christmas Eve. It was Bacchus, the tiny wine shop of Bagnols. An elderly gentleman, the owner, greeted me as I passed by, and wished me happy Christmas. Why was he working on Christmas Eve, I asked.

But this is not work, it's my passion, he answered earnestly. Such a great answer.

A warm and charming person full of anecdotes, he invited me for a wine tasting. There was a white wine nicknamed the Ferrari (there was something fastsharpred about it!) to go with oysters, and yet another white characterized as a Rolls Royce (taking it luxuriously slowly), to go with gambas. The Ferrari to be served icy cold, whereas the other should be no less than 9 degrees... How do the French do it, I ask myself, they turn every meal, every event into an artform.

Mais Madame, he explained, vividly speaking with his hands, you could never wear taupe eye shadow with orange lipstick! Wrong temperatures, wrong dry white wines, mixed with the wrong type of seafood would lead to désastre of similar proportions.

He joined me for a tasting. À la vie - to life! - he toasted. AND explained that when you toast to life, you must look at each other in the eyes. Otherwise, it's bad luck.

Oh well, that explains quite a few things.

Suddenly, we were surrounded by what felt like half the village, everybody gravitating towards the only place open, lit up, lively.

À la vie, we declared together.

A heartfelt toast, a heartfelt moment, strangers coming together at Christmas. Looking each other in the eyes.

~**~

Christmas night is turning into morning and I haven't been able to sleep at all. But this time, it's sleepless in Bagnôls, in a good way. Just me, the lights of the Christmas tree and a fireplace, still oozing warmth for having roared all day.

Time for reflection. Totally alone. I miss that sometimes.

My heart is pulling together highs and lows of this past year. If I tell you the truth - and in this blog we speak the truth - my feeling is of deep and profound gratitude, and of equally deep loss.

This year, I have lost two people - not to death but to life - whom I considered family. Eventually, it will hurt less but knowing myself, I don't just get over people I have loved. For me it takes years. Last time, over three years ago, I lost two familymembers over one day and still, the scar is raw like an amputated arm. I have ghost pain, every day. Sorry for the harsh language, I'm not being pessimist here... But a realist, just this once.

Gratitude is for finding a path to follow. Something that feels right. Something that has reached and touched people. My little company, my very own, has given me such long lost confidence and joy. And the people I've found through LadyBohemia - be it company, blog or shop - are nothing short of human angels. Before this adventure of entrepreneurship, I couldn't have imagined how many people would support, encourage, have faith in me.

The other side of the coin, very strangely, something totally new to me, was being badly let down by people I trusted. Not once not twice, but three times. These things happen and you just pick yourself up and keep going, I know. But this cut is a little deeper than skin. You see, if there's one talent I know I've always had, it is an ability to read people, to instinctively know who to trust and who to keep at arm's length.

Whenever I've gone for the listing of pros and cons, a rational systematic decision making process, I've ended up more or less lost. With intuition, never. Until this year, time and again. Now, I'm left questioning and disappointed. Not of the people around me, but myself.

Lastly, yet maybe most importantly, this has been a year of true and real friendship. New soul sisters, deep connections and encounters, or people I've known forever, making me feel how much care and love I am surrounded with.

True colors shining through. I think a quote from Cyndi Lauper would summarize my 2013.

~*'♥'*~

My mother-in-law (Mamie, as we call her) never fails at exceeding herself in kindness and in hospitality.

Last night, I arrived in France after midnight, downtrodden by a flu - I'd worked till the very last moment, left to the airport straight from the boutique - so rather exhausted and worn out. And what awaits on my bedside table...

 And of course the sheets on my bed were not only ironed, they were the prettiest ones she has, chosen based on my favorite color.

´Before my first morning here was over, she happened to come across an Art Deco powder box that has been in the family for almost hundred years. Two lovebirds, carved of silver, on a beautiful black box. Simply divine a piece, from the family of Uncle Jean, who fought in the forces of La Résistance during the Second World War... Uncle Jean, a pilot, who during the war had legendarily made an emergency landing right in the middle of the Champs-Élysées...

Knowing how much I love those stories, Mamie insisted on giving me this box she had inherited from Uncle Jean.

It's not even Christmas yet.

I am so touched, I can not put it in words.

It's not that Mamie would be swimming in money. Not at all. She is just the most generous, kindhearted and considerate person I have ever come across in this life. She goes absolutely out of her way to bring joy the people around her, always making it look breezily effortless. When I tried to thank her for the box, she just changed the topic, saying "Oh you know it's just an old piece, I couldn't use it for anything..." Yet I know she has treasured it for decades.

I don't hold idols, but Mamie is an exception to the rule.

I try so hard to learn from her, even a little something.

Let's see, if one day my daughter-in-law would invite me to come along to her honeymoon, like I invited Mamie to ours (but that's a whole another story...), I would have succeeded.

~*'♥'*~

" There is only one way to avoid criticism; do nothing, say nothing and be nothing."

-Aristotle

~*¨*~

Once upon a lifetime I bought a one-way ticket and moved to Calcutta. That year, I spent the Independence day there, with my Indian family who had made their home my home. So considerate they were, that on December 6th, to surprise me, all the women of the family had bought gorgeous blue and white silk saris and wore Finland's colors...

They cooked a beautiful festive dinner, and we burned two white candles in every window.

It was beautiful. So much deeper than mere beautiful in fact.

Today, of all days, I cleared my old photos and letters. And found a letter my father had written to me on that day, that very Independence day. I'd thought I'd lost those letters forever, as I'd desperately searched for them so so many times... Now that he's gone, they are priceless.

Today, I found all the letters my worried dad had written to his rebel daughter. Are you lost in the jungle for good, the first one begins.

"Dear Dad. I'm out of the jungle, but so much hasn't changed regardless. I'm a little bit lost, as ever. And I know you're still out there somewhere, looking after me."

A moving Independence day to each and every one of you my darling readers.

Kisses, from your very own

LadyBohemia

~**~