Yesterday, I opened Facebook and started reading the comments under one of my posts.
Nothing unusual. Just another ordinary moment in my day.
And then I read a comment that made my eyes fill with tears.
It was from a grandmother who shared her plans for this Christmas.
Her grandchildren live 1,500 miles away, and beginning December 1, she plans to record herself reading one story from Vico’s Christmas Storybook every day and send it to them.
Eleven stories. Eleven days. Eleven little moments when her grandchildren will be able to hear their grandmother’s voice.
And then she explained why.
It was her way of being present, even from such a long distance.
I sat there for a moment, looking at her words.
You see, I know a little something about living far away from the people you love.
Actually, I know quite a lot.
Over the years, my family and I have lived in three different countries. Bulgaria, the United States, and now Canada.
And although we’ve built a beautiful life along the way, distance has always been part of our story.
I know what it means to have family thousands of miles away.
I know what it feels like to celebrate a birthday without everyone around the table. To wish someone could simply knock on your door and come in for coffee. To realize that something as ordinary as spending an afternoon together has become a luxury.
Of course, we have technology.
We can make video calls, send photographs, record messages, and see familiar faces on a little screen.
But sometimes, when the conversation ends and the screen goes dark, the distance feels just as enormous as before.
And that’s why this grandmother’s comment touched me so deeply.
Because I understood.
I understood that she wasn’t simply planning to read eleven Christmas stories.
She was finding eleven ways to visit her grandchildren without leaving her home.
Eleven opportunities to say, “Grandma is here.”
And perhaps, somewhere along the way, those children will begin looking forward to hearing her voice every day.
Not because of the presents under the Christmas tree.
Not because of something expensive or extraordinary.
But because their grandmother has found a way to share a little piece of herself with them.
When I published Vico’s Christmas Storybook on Amazon two years ago, I had no idea where those eleven stories might travel.
They were born from my own family’s memories. Little moments from our lives that I wanted to preserve, with a touch of Christmas magic.
I hoped other families would enjoy them.
But I never imagined that one day, a grandmother living 1,500 miles away from her grandchildren would choose those stories to help bridge the distance between them.
And perhaps that’s what made me emotional.
Not the thought that someone had bought my book.
But the realization that something created from my family’s memories might become part of another family’s memories, too.
To this wonderful grandmother, thank you.
Thank you for sharing your beautiful Christmas plan with me. Thank you for allowing my little Vico to be part of something so meaningful.
I hope those eleven days bring you and your grandchildren many smiles, and perhaps a few happy tears.
And to everyone who has family living far away, I want to say something.
Distance may decide how often we can sit together.
But it doesn’t get to decide how much love we can share.
Sometimes, all it takes is a familiar voice, a Christmas story, and someone who refuses to let 1,500 miles stand in the way.
Because being far away doesn’t always mean being absent.
And sometimes, the most precious Christmas present is simply finding a way to be present.
GK
