If we have learned anything from the influx of holiday movies, mass-produced decorations, and festively themed songs, it's that the cultural zeitgeist has decreed Christmas is a holiday best served frosty. Whatever!
The powers that be in the top of the equator may have sold this idea globally, but that's only because they lack the inherent understanding 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 battle seasonal depression on top of it all.
A Chilly Childhood
And this isn't just hot air. I spent my formative years experiencing cold festive seasons. Despite my family hailing from New Zealand, my father's career meant 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 silver lining? The style options; layering is effortlessly chic.
In all honesty, a cold Christmas has its appeal. It's time-honored, classic, and the prospect of snow is truly enchanting. The snug appeal of a chilly celebration is hard to dismiss. Yet, with my extended family an ocean away, I always felt I was missing out an authentic celebration that not even the richest hot chocolate could replicate.
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 extended relatives for the first time. With a larger group to entertain, my father got creative in the kitchen, crafting 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 playful battles across the table. That was, until my parents answered the call of a new job and moved to a notoriously chilly part of northern England.
A Revelation in Reverse
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 unique. Enjoying a cool drink in the sun. Noshing on piles of fresh fruit. Loved ones being just a phone call away. Hot-pink sunsets stretched across the sky. Suddenly, I was a summer celebration advocate.
"That summer heat 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 profoundly difficult, his absence felt everywhere. Yet, being once again 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 warmest jacket, hoping for a glimpse of snow. The cold Christmas propaganda still has a slight grip on me!
Nevertheless, I'm eager to return home for another New Year's Day under the Australian summer 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 deepest powder can hold a candle to that feeling.
