Should we have learned anything from the influx of holiday movies, ubiquitous decorations, and festively themed songs, it's that the cultural zeitgeist has decreed Christmas is a holiday best served frosty. So they say!
The bigwigs residing above the equator may have sold this idea globally, but that's only because they lack the inherent understanding we southern hemisphere folk possess: a warm Christmas is simply superior. 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 an empty claim. I spent my formative years enduring 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 biting chill on my cheeks. The sole silver lining? The fashion choices; bundling up is effortlessly chic.
In fairness, a cold Christmas has its charms. It's traditional, classic, and the possibility of snow is truly enchanting. The snug appeal of a frosty gathering is hard to disregard. 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 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, crafting a heavily marinated vodka jelly that left everyone reeling. We slept soundly that night.
This became our routine for years – celebrating together with family and friends, complete with playful battles 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 surge of fond remembrance. Instead, I found myself yearning for everything that made a summer Christmas unique. Sipping sangria in the sun. Feasting upon piles of fresh fruit. Loved ones being just a phone call away. Vibrant sunsets stretched across the sky. In that moment, I was a summer celebration advocate.
"That summer heat soothed the sorrow in monumental ways."
This feeling was cemented after my father passed away. My mother decided to move back to New Zealand. The first Christmas without him was profoundly difficult, his loss palpable everywhere. Yet, being once again surrounded by family under the soft warmth of the summer sun helped ease 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 cold Christmas propaganda 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 nearby as we enter the new year fills me with a happiness my younger self always craved. Not even the fluffiest snow can compare to that feeling.
