
Friends of #ladiesofhive, I am sure many of you will share my feelings, and it is that in just two days, forty-eight hours, we will have Christmas, and that time sustains me with a sweet and firm anticipation. Christmas is no longer a distant horizon; I feel it in the air, in the lights of some houses, and in the hurried murmur of the markets.
My heart, still agitated from the day at the hospital, now beats to a different rhythm beside the bags I have left on the kitchen table, and it is because my role in the Christmas dance is clear: I am to contribute some of the flavors for the table where the family will gather. It will not be an ostentatious feast, but a collection of dishes that, one by one, weave the tablecloth upon which the affections of this celebration rest.

I will make the cold salad we all adore at home, and the yucca and sweet potato buñuelos that are sweetness made humble, and of course, the croquettes, the ones my little girl enjoys so much with their crispy exterior that gives way to a creamy and salty interior.
Today, all excited, I did the first shopping, and there is something very symbolic about it, for I was coming from another world, that of the hospital, where time is a straight line of worry, and leaving there to direct my steps to the market is like crossing a threshold between two equally human realities, but opposite in their essence.

From contained silence to bustling life, from pale white and green to the explosion of colors at the market stalls, it has been a journey from the everyday to the sacredness of tradition and shared celebration. These initial purchases have been the seed of the feast, and although there are no smells in my kitchen yet, I can already sense them. I have not started to knead yet, but I already feel the texture of the buñuelo dough between my fingers.
I can almost see my little girl slyly stealing the freshly fried croquettes from me, and perhaps that is, deep down, why I prepare them, for they are not simple dishes; they are vehicles for gathering and the perfect excuse for all of us to congregate around the kitchen.

With two days until Christmas, with the fatigue of the hospital still on my shoulders but with a light soul, these market bags are, for me, a great declaration of optimism, and they are proof that, no matter what happens, through flavor we will create a space full of happiness.
Do not think I have stopped being afraid that my recipes might fail or that something might burn in the kitchen, but I know it awaits me, and that the inert ingredients hold within them the potential for the feast and, more importantly, for the shared moment.

Today I am certain that in an often fragile world, there will always be a place to light the stove, to gather, and to uphold, alongside freshly fried croquettes, cold salad, and a golden buñuelo, the beautiful and eternal tradition of celebrating that we are here, together, for another Christmas.

✨ 𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒌𝒔 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈! ✨
𝑰𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒅𝒐𝒏’𝒕 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒎𝒆 𝒚𝒆𝒕, 𝑰’𝒎 𝒂 𝑪𝒖𝒃𝒂𝒏 𝒏𝒆𝒖𝒓𝒐𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒊𝒔𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒘𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒓, 𝒂 𝒎𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓, 𝒂 𝒘𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒂 𝒅𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒎𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒉𝒐’𝒔 𝒇𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒅 𝒊𝒏 𝑯𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒂 𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒊𝒇𝒖𝒍 𝒔𝒑𝒂𝒄𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒔𝒐𝒂𝒓.
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𝑩𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒆𝒓 𝒅𝒆𝒔𝒊𝒈𝒏𝒆𝒅 𝒃𝒚 𝑳𝒖𝒎𝒊𝒊.
𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒕? 𝑼𝒑𝒗𝒐𝒕𝒆, 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕, 𝒐𝒓 𝒓𝒆𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒈 𝒕𝒐 𝒔𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒗𝒊𝒕𝒚! 💛

VERSIÓN EN ESPAÑOL

Con la emoción de los preparativos: se acercan días felices

Amigas de #ladiesofhive, estoy segura de que muchas compartirán mi sentir, y es que a solo dos días, cuarenta y ocho horas, tendremos la Navidad, y ese tiempo me sostiene con una dulce y firme anticipación. Ya la Navidad no es un horizonte lejano, la siento en el aire, en las luces de algunas casas y en el murmullo acelerado de los mercados.
Mi corazón, todavía agitado por la jornada del hospital, late ahora con un ritmo diferente al lado de las bolsas que he dejado encima de la mesa de la cocina, y es que mi papel en la danza navideña es claro: me toca aportar parte de los sabores de la mesa donde estará la familia. No será un banquete ostentoso, sino un conjunto de platillos que, uno a uno, tejen el mantel donde se apoyan los afectos de esta celebración.

Me tocará la ensalada fría que tanto adoramos en casa, y los buñuelos de yuca y boniato que son la dulzura hecha humildad y, claro, las croquetas, esas que mi niña tanto disfruta con su exterior crujiente que cede a un interior cremoso y salado.
Hoy, toda emocionada, hice las primeras compras y hay algo muy simbólico en ello, pues venía de otro mundo, el del hospital, donde el tiempo es una línea recta de preocupación, y salir de allí y dirigir mis pasos al mercado es como cruzar un umbral entre dos realidades igualmente humanas, pero opuestas en su esencia.

Del silencio contenido a la bulliciosa vida, del color blanco y verde pálido al estallido de colores de los puestos de venta, ha sido un viaje desde lo cotidiano a lo sagrado de la tradición y la fiesta compartida. Estas compras iniciales han sido la semilla del festín y aunque no hay olores aún en mi cocina, ya los presiento. Aún no comienzo a amasar pero ya siento la textura de la masa del buñuelo entre mis dedos.
Me parece estar viendo cómo mi niña, de manera escurridiza, me roba las croquetas recién fritas, y quizás por eso es, en el fondo, por lo que lo preparo, pues no son simples platos, son vehículos de reunión y son la excusa perfecta para que todos nos congreguemos alrededor de la cocina.

A dos días de la Navidad, con el cansancio del hospital aún en los hombros pero con el alma ligera, estas bolsas del mercado son para mí una gran declaración de optimismo, y son la prueba de que, pase lo que pase, a través del sabor crearemos un espacio lleno de felicidad.
No crean que dejo de tener miedo a que mis recetas no funcionen o que se queme algo en la cocina, pero sé que ella me espera, y que los ingredientes inertes guardan en su interior el potencial del banquete y, más importante, del momento compartido.

Hoy tengo la certeza de que en un mundo a menudo frágil, siempre habrá lugar para encender el fogón, para reunirnos y sostener, junto a las croquetas recién fritas, la ensalada fría y un buñuelo dorado, la hermosa y eterna tradición de celebrar que estamos aquí, juntos, otra Navidad más.

✨¡𝑮𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒊𝒂𝒔 𝒑𝒐𝒓 𝒍𝒆𝒆𝒓! ✨
𝑺𝒊 𝒂ú𝒏 𝒏𝒐 𝒎𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒐𝒄𝒆𝒔: 𝒔𝒐𝒚 𝒏𝒆𝒖𝒓ó𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒂 𝒚 𝒆𝒔𝒄𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒂 𝒄𝒖𝒃𝒂𝒏𝒂, 𝒎𝒂𝒅𝒓𝒆, 𝒎𝒖𝒋𝒆𝒓 𝒚 𝒔𝒐ñ𝒂𝒅𝒐𝒓𝒂 𝒒𝒖𝒆 𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒓ó 𝒆𝒏 𝑯𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒖𝒏 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒎𝒐𝒔𝒐 𝒆𝒔𝒑𝒂𝒄𝒊𝒐 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒂 𝒗𝒐𝒍𝒂𝒓.
𝑬𝒍 𝒕𝒆𝒙𝒕𝒐 𝒚 𝒍𝒂𝒔 𝒊𝒎á𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒆𝒔 𝒔𝒐𝒏 𝒅𝒆 𝒎𝒊 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒐𝒓í𝒂, 100% 𝒉𝒖𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒔 (𝒔𝒊𝒏 𝑰𝑨).
𝑩𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒆𝒓 𝒅𝒊𝒔𝒆ñ𝒂𝒅𝒐 𝒑𝒐𝒓 𝑳𝒖𝒎𝒊𝒊.
¿𝑻𝒆 𝒈𝒖𝒔𝒕ó 𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒂 𝒑𝒖𝒃𝒍𝒊𝒄𝒂𝒄𝒊ó𝒏? 𝑽𝒐𝒕𝒂, 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒂 𝒐 𝒓𝒆𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒖𝒆𝒂 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒂 𝒂𝒚𝒖𝒅𝒂𝒓 𝒂 𝒅𝒆𝒔𝒑𝒍𝒆𝒈𝒂𝒓 𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒔 𝒂𝒍𝒂𝒔.💛
Thanks for the support 🎄🌻✨
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Thanks for the support 🎄✨
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Que lindo que sientas tanto entusiasmo con los preparativos. Un abrazo! que la pases genial
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Muchas gracias 🫂🫂 y las mejores navidades para ti y los que amas😌🌻🎄
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There were days coming off a set of 12 hour shifts but the joy and excitement of Christmas gives me that extra energy to make it a fine Christmas time for my kids. Christmas will always have a special magic to the season.
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It's like that – no matter the tiredness, exhaustion, or overwhelm from long hours of work, that desire to make our loved ones happy pushes us to keep going and to dream of a beautiful Christmas.
Merry Christmas🎄
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