May you always have a shell in your pocket and sand between your toes.
It’s my favourite time of year. Christmas. Summer. I used to hate that it was all rolled into one here in New Zealand but I have a new appreciation for it. Winter is long and unforgiving with no holidays or moments to look forward to (except Rugby games of course, my sanity in winter). Then it happens. No more puffer jackets or as I fondly refer to mine, coats that double as sleeping bags. The hallway is not bitterly cold. The flowers start blooming. Shorts find their way out of the bottom of closets. And like that the memory of winter is gone.
The last few weeks it has been warm, relatively speaking. Lest you forget, we are still by Antarctica. Getting ready in the morning hasn’t been survival any longer. My son is in shorts and jandals/flip flops daily and Frappacinos are starting become regular. I breathe a deep sigh of relief at this point of the year. I am so thankful winter is over. I long for warmth and sitting on the deck as evening rolls on. Feeling sun kissed and tired is my favourite way to fall asleep. And now a new memory is thrown into my most favourite time of year: Christmas.
As my son and I decorated our tree tonight and talked of the fun of cutting it down and feeding the reindeer roaming around the tree farm I stopped. I realised this is his nostalgia beginning. For him Christmas will be BBQ’s and ice blocks (Popsicles). The beach and board shorts. Long nights of playing outside and red cheeks. For him it will be Christmas when it’s warm and he’s full of life and lacking layers of clothes. It will be the season that is chocked full of memories and laughter by the beach and in the sun.
Nostalgia is a funny thing. It can leave you bitter and disappointed if your not careful. If I’m not careful. Nostalgia is the story that was written why you were enjoying life, but right now life is happening too. Our tree has jandals/flip flops on it this year. It’s my way of embracing this new normal, the new nostalgia being written before my eyes. My little boy needs fun memories, not a moping mom that is sad that it’s not cold at Christmas. Truth be told you couldn’t pay me to go to the States for Christmas now. I’ve just survived winter and my reward is summer. Sun. Beaches. Ice blocks. Christmas in a swim suit. There is no way I’m giving that up. Call me in July and I’ll be on a plane faster than you can say The 4th of July.
I never ever thought I would be okay with missing Thanksgiving and heading into Christmas time with hot chocolates and winter coats. But I am. It helps that I loathe winter and love summer. It takes the sting out if it I guess, but more than that I want to step into the new nostalgia being built here and now. So we put jandals on our tree and Santa wears board shirts. It’s different, but who cares…it’s summer!