I’ve long appreciated the second day of Christmas—Boxing Day, as it’s called here in Canada and elsewhere. After the bustle of the preceding weeks and The Big Day itself, Boxing Day is a day to take a breath and relax. No big meal to cook, no expectations to manage, just a quiet day spent doing whatever one wants. Even when we lived in the U.S., where Boxing Day isn’t a statutory holiday, I always booked it off. Some things are too precious to mess with.
This morning, we are enjoying a second cup of coffee while the usual Friday laundry churns in the washer. We’re basking in the afterglow of yesterday’s conversations with most of our kids and all of our grandchildren, good food, surprises in stockings, and a decent start on the new jigsaw puzzle. I feel abundantly blessed.
Boxing Day sales start today. There used to be a frenzy on this day for those inclined to shop but, at some point, we embraced the tradition of American Black Friday sales and it’s all blurred into one long shopping season that will continue for the rest of the year (and possibly beyond). It’s all a tad overwhelming, and I don’t pay much attention, but, full disclosure, there are things I wait until the end of the year to purchase. I just ordered a new pair of slippers from a business that states clearly on its homepage that it is closed for the holidays, and orders placed after December 24 will begin shipping on January 6, 2026. Quality products aside, I respect a company like that.
My thoughts are ever-so-slightly starting to turn toward the start of a new year, chosen areas of focus, blank spreadsheets, and empty folders on my MacBook. But not yet. Not just yet.
Here’s a short verse I tapped out this morning in honour of one of my favourite days of the year.
Boxing Day Wool slippers warm cold feet. Chenille throw on sofa, inviting. Feathers falling, snow blanketing. Firelight. Candlelight. Divine light. Milky coffee. Gentle conversation. Jigsaw puzzle. Leftovers. Junior hockey on big screen. Watercolour paint. Scratch of silver-tipped fountain pen across cotton paper. Black ink. Warm puppy. Turkey sandwich. Exhale.
I wonder how you are spending this Boxing Day—whether you think of it that way or not. Let’s chat in the comments, if you’re inclined.