By Abe Villarreal
For the first time in 10 years, I took a break from writing. From weekly writing. From sharing with you all what I see and what I feel when I see it. Since August, I stopped typing. Stopped sending in my thoughts on what life is like around me.
I needed the break. We all do. Even when it's a break from what we like doing the most. And then – I woke up this week and knew it was time to get back to the keyboard. I wish I could say to pick up the pen and paper, but sadly, that's not so much a thing anymore.
There are a lot of things that aren't things anymore. Things that were once big, everyday things. Like writing to someone when it was time to say something that needed to be said. Finding a picturesque postcard and squeezing just enough words to fill in that one half of the card, and sometimes a little of the second half.
This year, I've received a few Christmas cards. I like seeing that my mailbox is full of something other than loan offers and car giveaway flyers. The Christmas cards are always nice to open, but even they have very few words written in them. Just a name or two and a "Merry Christmas." Still, it's nice to see them and to know that someone sent them.
I wonder if the post office workers, the letter carriers, feel the difference in what they carry. Their fast fingers quickly shuffle envelopes and magazines. Boxes that barely fit in the mailbox. I don't think they carry with them too many letters. Not the kind that aren't written by a computer to "Dear Homeowner."
The letters that are written from one person directly to another. That kind isn't found in my mailbox. I'm guessing they aren't in yours either. They used to be a big, everyday thing. I wish they still were.
After work every day, I've been visiting a new coffee shop. It's the kind of shop that's on a busy intersection with ceiling-to-floor windows. Cars are stopping and going. People are seen rushing across the street before the light turns red. Life is busy just outside the windows, but inside, the setting is calm. The lights dim.
It's my place to catch up on reading and a frothy latte. I heard there was a book club that meets there once a week. Maybe I'll join them. They don't read there, but they meet to talk about what they've read.
In between chapters, I look around, and I notice that I'm the only one reading a book. A real book, the kind you hold. Other people are reading their phones. Or maybe they are just scrolling. I see their fingers moving faster than their eyes. People aren't seen reading books anymore. That used to be a thing, too.
In 2026, there will be new things. Kinds of new things that we will like, and others that we won't. That's what happens as new years come and the old years go. I'm hoping that our favorite old things from the past come back, too.
Like receiving written letters in the mail. And reading in public spaces. Good and needed things.
Merry Christmas and Happy New Year.
Abe Villarreal writes about the traditions, people, and culture of America. He can be reached at
