If we have gleaned anything from the deluge of holiday movies, ubiquitous decorations, and jingle bell-infused songs, it's that the popular narrative has decreed Christmas is a holiday best served chilly. Whatever!
The bigwigs residing above the equator may have sold this idea globally, but that's only because they are without the innate knowledge we denizens of the south possess: a warm Christmas is simply the better way. This season is stressful enough – irrespective of temperature – but at least we don't have to contend with seasonal depression on top of it all.
Frosty Formative Years
And this isn't just an empty claim. I spent my formative years experiencing cold festive seasons. Despite my family hailing from New Zealand, my father's career led to inevitable international moves. My younger years were spent in the UK and the US, meaning every December brought dark skies by 4pm and a crisp sting on my cheeks. The sole silver lining? The fashion choices; bundling up is inherently stylish.
In all honesty, a cold Christmas has its charms. It's traditional, iconic, and the possibility of snow is undeniably enchanting. The snug appeal of a chilly celebration is hard to dismiss. Yet, with my extended family on the other side of the world, I always felt I was lacking an authentic celebration that not even the most decadent hot chocolate could make up for.
A Move to Summer
Everything changed when another move brought my family to Australia. There, I finally experienced a proper festive family affair, joined by more family for the first time. With a bigger crowd to entertain, my father got experimental in the kitchen, crafting a potent vodka jelly that left everyone reeling. We all slept well that night.
This became our tradition for years – sharing the day with family and friends, complete with water gun fights across the table. That was, until my parents heeded the opportunity of a new job and moved to a notoriously chilly part of northern England.
Nostalgia's Surprise
Visiting them for Christmas after a long absence, I expected a wave of fond remembrance. Instead, I found myself yearning for everything that made a summer Christmas special. Sipping sangria in the sun. Feasting upon piles of fresh fruit. Loved ones being just a phone call away. Hot-pink sunsets painting the sky. Suddenly, I was a summer celebration advocate.
"The warmth soothed the sorrow in significant ways."
This feeling was reinforced after my father passed away. My mother decided to return home to New Zealand. The first Christmas without him was profoundly difficult, his absence felt everywhere. Yet, being once more surrounded by family under the soft warmth of the summer sun helped ease the grief in monumental ways.
A Self-Proclaimed Hypocrite
All this said, I must confess to being a walking contradiction. This year, I'll be celebrating during winter in South Korea, and I'm genuinely excited to explore Seoul in my fluffiest coat, hoping for a glimpse of snow. The frosty festive ideal still has a little hold on me!
Still, I'm eager to return home for another New Year's Day under the bright southern sun. Knowing my family – including a newest member – will be close by as we enter the new year fills me with a joy my younger self always craved. Not even the fluffiest snow can hold a candle to that feeling.
