2026: The Year I Decided to Become Lighter
This Christmas, I was challenged to find lightness.
It wasn’t the Christmas I wanted - but maybe it was the Christmas I needed.
My developmentally delayed brother, Chris, was supposed to spend the holidays with us, but life had other plans after a poor decision led to serious consequences. He jaywalked at night, wearing all black, across a very busy road where cars had the right of way. He was hit by a car - but thankfully, the driver stopped immediately and called an ambulance. Chris survived, but the accident landed him in the hospital and then rehabilitation for nearly two months.
So instead of Chris coming to us, my husband and I decided we would bring some holiday cheer to him - and to his roommate, Arthur, who were both missing out on celebrating the holidays in New York City.
I’ll be honest: part of me was really annoyed. How could Chris be so careless? And then, almost immediately, I had to catch myself. I live in NYC. I jaywalk all the time. The truth is, Chris has struggled with decision-making his entire life, and this time it caught up with him. I realized I was angry - and if I was going to be present with him, I needed to find a way to leave that anger at the door.
So I asked myself: What might help?
Planning something fun. Taking time to meditate. Practicing forgiveness - toward Chris and toward myself.
My husband and I decided to bring games: silly card games like Old Maid and Go Fish, along with a Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer bingo set. And since I had been planning to take Chris to the circus, I thought - why not bring the circus to him?
This kind of last-minute idea is very unlike me. I’m usually a planner. But I found a clown booking site, submitted a request, and to my surprise, several clowns responded - despite it being the quiet stretch between Christmas and New Year’s.
One clown, Auntie, reached out and immediately stood out. She shared that she loves working with people in nursing homes and with those with developmental disabilities, and that she happened to be passing through the area. We texted and spoke briefly about the show. She offered thoughtful suggestions, noting that many developmentally delayed adults have shorter attention spans. Then she asked the most important question: What makes Chris smile? I told her, “balloons, the Muppets, and Christmas.”
From there, she designed a short magic act, a mini Muppet show, dancing with the Grinch, and, of course, balloons. Balloon hats, balloon swords…balloon everything!
After finalizing the plan, I reached out to the rehabilitation center administrator and got permission to host the show in the main common area and invite a few of Chris’s friends, along with any residents who wanted to join. I made a few phone calls, and to my delight, one friend said yes - and rounded up a couple more. By showtime, we had eight people, plus a handful of curious residents who had dropped by.
As you can see from the photos, Chris was surprised and slightly confused at first. Auntie set up a small stage with red drapes, placed red glasses on Chris’s face, topped it off with a balloon hat - and the party began.
Every act was a hit. Chris especially loved the magic routine, where Auntie kept pulling out bigger and bigger wands, tossing them over the stage when none of them worked. The Grinch - Auntie’s impeccably dressed assistant - was another highlight. Chris and I danced with him to “Who Let the Dogs Out,” laughing the entire time.
The final act was the icing on the cake: balloon swords for everyone, turning the room into a full-on group sword fight.
In the day or two after the clown show, I found myself reflecting deeply on the importance of playfulness - and on the gift of being around Chris. He has a youthful approach to life. He lives playfully. He doesn’t squeeze it in; he leads with it. I, on the other hand, tend to treat play as an afterthought.
That difference matters.
After returning home, I had a powerful “aha” moment during my morning meditation. Most mornings, I meditate for 15–20 minutes and read a short passage from The Book of Awakening by Mark Nepo. On January 2nd, the reading was titled “All Fall Down.”
Nepo tells a story about a man determined to paint his house. On a cold, snowy day, he gathers all his supplies - two gallons of paint, a drop cloth, a wide brush clenched between his teeth - and tries to push the door open with his foot. He loses his balance, falls backward, and spills red paint all over himself.
That image stopped me in my tracks.
It reminded me of how often my ego refuses to put things down - past hurts, mistakes, resentment, and perfectionism. I carry them from one door to the next, even when they weigh me down. Nepo writes about how life continually offers us opportunities to put down what we’re carrying and take only what we truly need. And when we don’t - when we fall - we’re given another chance to get back up and maybe even laugh at ourselves.
What I realized is that my refusal to put my baggage down had created a very heavy load. It was the load I dragged with me to Baltimore for Christmas. And if I wanted to truly be present with Chris - to give him what he wanted most, which was simply time, fun, and connection - I had to let some of it go.
As I begin 2026, I’m holding this intention close: if I want to be lighter and more playful, I need to leave the negative thinking and heavy emotions at the door. I need to travel with less baggage.
This is the year I choose lightness.
