white christmas
When I was little, I had an internal conflict about what Christmas is and what it isn’t, because in my country December is summer and Christmas is always associated with Santa Claus and snow.
In my childhood I watched movies where it snowed and people went out as a family to make snowmen, went ice skating, and spent Christmas Eve by the fireplace drinking hot chocolate. I thought about how lucky they were to be able to have a cozy Christmas, while I was roasting and getting bitten by dozens of mosquitoes at night.
There are several jokes about how children in Latin America ask their mothers if it will snow near their home that year, and although it’s a cruel joke, it’s very real. Thousands of children envy those clichés from American movies.
Recently I experienced snow for the first time and began to have white Christmases, putting an end to that strange feeling that had accompanied me throughout my childhood.
But the question is: was it simply marketing? I can say no. A cold Christmas spent at home drinking hot drink, more than just an idea, is a reality. Walking through the alleys of my city at night and seeing bundled up couples strolling hand in hand while looking at the illuminated windows of closed shops is a reality.
It’s those small things in life that give Christmas its magical touch.