If we have gleaned anything from the deluge of holiday movies, ubiquitous decorations, and festively themed songs, it's that the popular narrative has determined Christmas is a holiday best served chilly. So they say!
The bigwigs in the top of the equator may have convinced the world, but that's only because they lack the inherent understanding we southern hemisphere folk possess: a sun-drenched Christmas is simply the better way. This season is fraught 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 hot air. I spent my formative years experiencing cold festive seasons. Despite my family originating in 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 early nightfall and a biting chill on my cheeks. The sole upside? The fashion choices; bundling up is inherently stylish.
In fairness, a cold Christmas has its appeal. It's traditional, classic, and the prospect of snow is truly enchanting. The cosy charm of a chilly celebration is hard to disregard. Yet, with my extended family an ocean away, I always felt I was lacking an authentic celebration that not even the most decadent hot chocolate could make up for.
The Southern Shift
Everything changed when another move brought my family to Australia. There, I finally experienced a full festive family affair, joined by more family for the first time. With a larger group to entertain, my father got experimental in the kitchen, concocting a heavily marinated vodka jelly that left everyone reeling. We slept soundly 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 answered the call of a new job and moved to a particularly cold part of northern England.
Nostalgia's Surprise
Visiting them for Christmas after a long absence, I expected a wave of nostalgic longing. 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 stretched across the sky. In that moment, I was a summer celebration advocate.
"The warmth eased the grief in monumental 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 incredibly tough, his loss palpable everywhere. Yet, being once more surrounded by family under the soft warmth of the summer sun alleviated the grief in profound ways.
A Self-Proclaimed Hypocrite
All this said, I readily admit to being a walking contradiction. This year, I'll be celebrating during winter in South Korea, and I'm genuinely excited to wander around Seoul in my fluffiest coat, hoping for a snowfall. The frosty festive ideal still has a slight grip on me!
Still, I'm keen 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 happiness my younger self always craved. Not even the deepest powder can compare to that feeling.
