I am Dreaming of a White Christmas

It was the night of Thanksgiving. When the whole of America was busy demonstrating their gratefulness for the gift of ‘life.’ Over beautifully laid tables of Turkeys, pies and sauces, they were embracing the warmth of family and friends that may have been overlooked in the humdrum of life. And I, sat there transfixed, at the sight of soft snow falling quietly on the stairs to my apartment. The wide French window of the New York flat I had once called home, gave me the perfect vantage point to witness this miracle of nature. This seemingly simple act of snow settling on rooftops and pavements... evoking the melancholy in me. Particularly when one must spend this time of the year alone, holed up in a cardboard sized flat, while the entire world is proclaiming their thankfulness and sending out their love to the universe. 

I had two choices - to brave the bone chilling cold and head out for the Thanksgiving dinner. Or, to stay put, and be by my nine-month-old baby’s side. One who lay cradled in her bassinet, oblivious to the frolic of this world, of this season. While I patiently waited for the partner to return from his dinner, my mind was toying with thoughts of how it would have felt like to be there. What it would have been like to change places. And just when I was wallowing in such thoughts of longing, without a caution, my baby’s lips curved to break into the most wonderful smile I had ever seen - an impish grin. And in a matter of seconds, I was wiped off the melancholy that was settling over me. And a splinter of joy shot through my soul like a shooting star across the dark sky. And there, I found my reason to be thankful for. The Christmas tree at the other end of the room twinkled, twinning with my thoughts.

A year later in Florida. I am still in my cotton pajamas, as I labor over my Thanksgiving dinner. And Bing Crosby’s ‘White Christmas’ playing in the background intensifies my indulgent thoughts. Alas, here, down south, except for a brief whiff of chilled wind, there is nothing much to winter this place has to offer. Snow? You must be kidding! Ofcourse a crackling fireplace on a snowy winter evening over a cup of hot chocolate would have been the perfect setting for the holiday season. But a year in Florida, and I have trained my heart to believe that, a snow-free winter has its own charm too. To be able to celebrate Thanksgiving and Christmas in the woods for one. Decking-up in lacy dresses and high heels as opposed to being bundled-up from top to bottom for another. Sometimes, one has to cook up reasons to be thankful for.

My daughter will be two years old soon. And the only kind of Christmas she knows is the latter kind. One where she hops and flips in the outdoors, beneath a pleasantly chilled winter sky. I wonder if I would ever be able to express in words to her the delight of a white Christmas. The kind that lives in our memories now. The intangible fuzziness that the ruthless winter ironically bring in those parts of America. The kind this part doesn’t know of. But for now, I shall let her enjoy the Christmas in the wild - the outdoorsy, crisp Christmas. And wait patiently to see her excitement unfold, when she finally finds herself amidst the winter wonderful I so crave for. And then, I would be thankful for that day too. 

Here’s wishing that you never have to look too hard for a reason to be thankful for. May you create your own heaven wherever you choose to be. And may the sparkle and joy of Christmas, white or otherwise, fill your heart with warmth and love all year through.

This article was written for FMC(First Moms Club).

Here's the link to the article: I am Dreaming of a White Christmas