What Christmas Means To Me

Christmas means golden coins stuffed in my very own handmade advent calendar. It’s having your mum say ‘no you can’t have that, it’s for Christmas‘ even though its December 21st and all you want is a piece of Turkish delight.

Christmas is about fairy lights and chasing peoples outdoor decorations, getting lost in neighbourhoods on the hunt for the best. It’s about always looking for the one house in the local area that puts on a big display every year for charity and watching the kids look on in awe, just as I did when I was that age.

Christmas is when mum puts special Christmas collars onto the cats, red and white with bells on, so you hear them jingling around all day. It’s also when, after Christmas dinner, your mum and the cat fall asleep and you can’t tell which is snoring the loudest.

As I have grown up, Christmas has come to mean traffic jams. Pitch black roads, illuminated by red and white car lights, all lined up, as I wait on the long slog bus journey to start my shift for work. While working in the hospitality industry at Christmas time can be bloody tough, it hasn’t quite killed that festive spirit for me yet.

Rather specifically, Christmas to me is about the library. For the past four years, December has been spent living in the library trying to finish the endless essays that were always due in the last week of term. Now im no longer a student, I look back at those memories with an odd nostalgia.

And Christmas is also about the little things. New pyjamas, fluffy scarves and matching booty cuffs. Scented candles, Micheal Buble and gingerbread houses. Christmas windows, fireplaces and after-work drinks.

Oh, and of course, plenty of advocaat and lemonade.

Now we have our own place, our own little fur baby and no university, I plan on keeping up the traditions and adding a few more. I can’t wait to see what future Christmases will mean to me.

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