The Patty project

On New Year’s Eve, while I was at work, an email came through letting us know we could clock off early — 3pm instead of 4:30. A nice surprise, though we didn’t have anything pressing planned. The evening was always going to be a go with the flow kind of night (because now we can).

I was working from an office that wasn’t my usual one, in an area I don’t frequent often, so when I packed up and said my goodbyes, I drove over to a nearby shopping centre. I checked in with Eli by text to see if any New Year’s Eve invitations had come through — none had on his end. We’d had a few invites already, all appreciated, but we decided we’d choose once we were both home.

That’s when I noticed a homewares store I hadn’t been in before.

Inside, almost immediately, I was drawn to a set of teacups — part of a Kimono range by Maxwell Williams. I picked one up, felt the rim, even pretended to sip from it, then put it back and continued wandering, already knowing I’d likely return.

I spent the next couple of hours doing slow, carefree shopping.

No rushing.

No agenda.

Just being present. Eventually, I returned to the homewares store and carefully chose two of the three designs — matching, but different — and bought them.

I walked away carrying those two boxes feeling oddly happy and deeply satisfied.

When I got home, I unpacked the shopping and placed our new cups on the bench. When Eli arrived, I excitedly showed him my purchase. I’m not sure he fully understood my enthusiasm as I recounted my afternoon, but he smiled, felt the rims of the cup, and agreed they were a good find.

Then came my explanation.

A new year was approaching — and to me, a new year represents new beginnings. A chance for things to shift. To unfold. To manifest. To gently move in the direction we choose.

I shared that I might also have been drawn to the cups because of their Asian influence — perhaps connected to the amount of time we have been spending in South East Asia, a time that marked change, perspective, and slowing down for us.

The two cups — matching but different — felt symbolic of us. Together, entering another year side by side. A year already feeling different because our adult children had grown more independent over the past year.

And then the word landed for me: freedom.

Parenting, for us, took longer than it does for many. We’ve been parenting autism — which meant being needed intensely for much longer than parents of neurotypical children often are.

Now, slowly, that season is shifting.

Before heading out for our New Year’s Eve plans — dinner with friends, then a countdown at another friend’s house — I shared with Eli that what I envisioned for 2026 was simple: sitting, resting, and enjoying each other’s company as a couple.

Those two pretty, Asian-inspired tea cups were quietly holding all of that possibility.

The next day, it surprised me just how deeply satisfying it felt to make our first cup of tea for 2026 in those new cups. We set up the lounge to suit just us — our comfortable recliners, a few snacks within reach, our teacups resting beside us. No rush. No noise. Just ease.

Our house felt bigger. Quieter. A little emptier.

And, that didn’t feel sad.

It felt right.

Like a home gently shifting into its next season — one that still holds love, connection and family, but also makes space for us again.

And maybe that’s what those teacups were really about after all.

Here’s to gentle beginnings.