01/01 Chapter 490 It's time to celebrate
New Year’s felt different this time. For the first time, it was just me and my parents. And of course, you and Rafinha too. Everything felt quiet, gentle, unhurried.
I’ve never really liked New Year’s Eve. I can never seem to find a place I truly want to be. The only one I remember enjoying was the year I spent it with Caique, who was my boyfriend at the time. All the others were… forgettable. But this one, with my parents, felt peaceful in a way I didn’t know I needed.
The original plan was for just you and me to stay at the apartment. I’d buy balloons, we’d curl up together and watch Disney movies. My mom wanted to go to Caraguá, and I’ve already decided I will never spend New Year’s at the beach again. But as always, my momr thought more about her daughters than herself. She felt bad about leaving me behind. She said she was giving up the trip because your grandfather wouldn’t sleep in that heat without air conditioning, but I know her. She stayed because she didn’t want to leave me alone.
She cooked one of those dinners that feel like love on a plate: her perfect bacon farofa, roasted chester, and that almond rice I adore. But she insisted we wait until after midnight to eat.
In return, I got the usual beach gossip from your great-grandfather Wilson’s house and, as always, Débora was at the center of the drama.
They had invited Ane’s family — who live in the back house there in Caraguá — to have dinner and celebrate together. That was the plan. But Débora and Junior, who have recently become obsessed with clean eating and rigid routines, wanted to eat at 10 p.m. instead of after midnight, claiming it was because of the children. Except… Cauã is over 8 and Marina is already 15. They’re not toddlers. At that age, your aunt and I were spending Christmas in that crowded family I once told you about, eating at four in the morning and surviving just fine. People have become overly precious about everything.
I understand that eating late isn’t healthy. I don’t eat late. You don’t either. But Christmas and New Year’s are the only two nights of the year when a huge portion of people — not everyone, of course, but many — break that rule. Two nights. It won’t hurt you.
My grandparents tried to explain that they had already invited another family and agreed on the time. The children threw a tantrum, saying they wouldn’t eat at all and refusing to eat after midnight.
There was another incident too: Cauã kicked a soccer ball too hard and broke your great-grandfather’s wooden birdhouse. My grandfather scolded him — as his grandfather. Débora immediately got upset and said that if her son couldn’t even have the freedom to play ball outside the house, she would leave.
Let’s be honest: my grandpa is picky about his things. He always has been. But he has always been like that, and the house is his. When a child breaks something even by accident, it is the parent’s responsibility to correct and teach. And when that doesn’t happen, I think it’s completely appropriate for the grandfather to step in. He has authority too. And it was his house. And his property. That’s not abuse. That’s boundaries.
Instead of supporting my grandpa, Débora undermined him and threw a fit, threatening to leave.
There’s something I hope you grow up understanding: when we are guests in someone else’s home, we adapt to their rules and their rhythm, even if it’s uncomfortable. That’s exactly why, in San Diego, I chose not to stay a month in my friend Camila’s house and paid for another place instead. Staying there would have meant changing our sleep schedule, our routine, our freedom. We were the guests. We would have had to adapt. And if we don’t want to adapt, then we choose a different place, like I did.
So if the family dinner happens at midnight once a year, you adapt once a year. Or you celebrate elsewhere and create your own rules. It really is that simple.
My mother wanted to eat at midnight, so that’s what we did. And it was a gentle, peaceful New Year’s. After you fell asleep, your grandparents and I watched The Hangover — a comedy trilogy I absolutely love, because truly good comedies are rare, and this one never fails.
And now… here we are, stepping into 2026. It’s hard to believe you were born in 2022 and now we’re entering 2026. It feels like yesterday.
I remember so clearly: a week after you were born came the election and Lula’s inauguration. I cried, thinking that this man might remain president until 2026 — when you’d be four — and that it felt like an eternity away. And now look: it’s election year again, and you are turning four. Time moved so much faster than I ever imagined.
Do I believe he’ll leave power? Probably not. But honestly, I don’t care anymore. I just want to live well. With you.
So I want to thank you for another New Year together. Another year full of memories, stories, moments. Life is lighter with you. Brighter. You were, without question, my greatest antidote to sadness. Life gained color because of you. I am happy.
My wish for this year is simple: that you won’t be hospitalized again, that we have health, laughter, joy and many more stories for me to write in your diary.
My daughter, I love you.
Happy New Year.
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