Lying back against the green, green Bermuda grass, with its sweet, sweet heaven scent, and unique bite, he tucked his arms behind his head. His shirt sleeves, of course, were white, white as were his pants, clasped with leather belt and palatinum buckle. Patent leather dress shoes, white, too. Church ready, with matching jacket and pale straw hat, at hand.

He looked up, up at the clouds, because cumulous was what Christmas to him was most about. About the way the clouds rolled in, in mighty billows, like the sailboats way down below, cradled in the ocean crests of the great, Great Pacific. White, waving on white, and breaking free on white glimmer. As far as the eye could see, West.

The snowcapped mountains beautiful, in the distance, Northeast, as in America the Beautiful, the purple majesties crowned, crowned with just enough snow powder. The sand below wasn't quite white white, but in the glare, almost so. Enough white to reinforce that special blank, that blanket feeling of change, of blank slate beginnings, that this time of the year offers. Like fresh chalk, yet to be tested.

It was December 25th and yes, he could, he could still sing, in the heat of the moment, in the verdant field, I'm Dreaming... of a White Christmas. And enjoy it as real; Real to him. Maybe it was a little different. Different, but pure. The Holiday was purity, and in association, Anything holy. Anything at all, but White, it should, and would be. Clean, innocent as the newborn. As daylight. As that perfect note, unfolding upon the wings of the freedom dove.

And he whistled, then sang lightly with Bing, sang modifying a little, in near rhyme:

I'm dreaming of a white Christmas

Just like the ones I used to know (Ooo)

Where the dewdrops glisten and children listen

To hear jingles in the road...

I'm dreaming of a white Christmas

With every Christmas card I write (Ooo)

"May your days be merry and bright

And may all your Christmases be white"

I'm dreaming of a white Christmas

Just like the ones I used to know (Ooo)

Where the sea crests glisten and children listen

To hear (To hear jingles in the road)

I'm dreaming of a white Christmas

With every Christmas card I write (Ooo) "

May your days be merry and bright

And may all your Christmases be white"

I'm dreaming of a white Christmas

Just like the ones I used to know (Ooo)

Where the mountains glisten and children listen

To hear (To hear jingles in the road)

I'm dreaming of a white Christmas (*whistling*)

With еvery Christmas card I write (Mmm)

"May your days be merry and bright

And may all your Christmases be White..." 

12.17.2023

Anything but White; Christmas in a Warm Environment challenge @AJAY9979

People sing about dreaming of a "White Christmas" and that is all well and fine...

for me and mine

we will keep the warmth and sunny skies for it is simply divine.

The thought of shoveling snow

Oh, heck to the no!!!!

Frost biting at my toe

Nah, that is a no go

Give me shorts and tee's

oh please

If it gets downright chilly - I don't mean to gloat

but I think in the back of the closet I have a coat.

There are a few things that makes this Texan jolly

a hot Tamale

George Strait singing

The joy in the Houston Texans winning.

Prayers lifted for all

May the true reason

for this season

truly bless y'all.

No snow.

Winter is just a dream.

Why drink hot cocoa if you can just step outside to get warm.

A light jacket is all you need if it gets a little chilly.

The only time the weather is frightful is when it hits triple digits.

The only reason the roads are hazardous is potholes.

The green evergreen stood tall, it leaves full of life. Wrapped with rainbow lights flashing, and silver tinsel cascading.

Hidden inbetween the branches are ballerinas in pink tutus standing on tip toes, boy soldiers in red uniforms saluting the captain, golden bells that chime and golden stars that shine.

The Christmas tree coming to life in colour for the holidays.

I love him like I love California - every second of every minute is infused with a golden shock of electricity that could light up those horrendous holiday lights they wrap around palm trees. More importantly, our shock of electricity powers our relationship and makes us invincible and permanent, a holiday of high temperatures and warm hearts, but in a way that outlasts 2023. The year we were married.

I wasn‘t supposed to make it to thirty. My life expectancy is technically reduced in quite a large way, with a 15% mortality rate. I moved to California five years ago, wanted to move back home after two. But then I found love, and love inspired marriage, and now I celebrate Christmas with boundless happiness.

I was snowed in two feet under one Christmas in Boston, out of love and out of luck. I understood winter to be infinite, that love equated to loss. I couldn’t leave my house; the snow plows piled it all up. An aching, a separateness from everyone else.

California Christmases are interesting - a blend of warmth, and palm trees, with an almost dream-like quality. But it’s me who’s dreaming - of a better future, for having met my husband.

California is one thing, family is another. I am lucky to have found mine here. I am lucky it only snows somewhere else, far away, where love was lost, and now entirely forgotten.

Snow has never been a thing, here. Not in all the years of my life. I'm curious about it but I suppose I can spend the rest of my time on this Earth not knowing the experience of it's feel and taste and cold, too.

I live in Nigeria. My parents do well for themselves so I don't have to do much other than do well academically (there's been a bit of a decline as time passes... Oh well). There's nothing super special about either climate... Well, there is.

Christmas has always meant so little to me. I don't know why.

I probably have bad memories repressed somewhere. But you want to know what it's like here? For one in millions/billions? Sure. I'm sitting with a fan to me right now. The fan is on downstairs... It's loud. The fan is on in every room there is a person. We'd use our shushier air conditioners but there's no NEPA right now so we can't on it.

It's been weird. But I'm no worse or better than anyone else for it. Just another human. I hope I believe that enough some day.

Christmas tends to mean nothing to me. We used to go to the village. Have some judgemental comments here and there. About my weight, about school stuff, about how I can't speak my native language well enough, I suppose. Relatives should be kinder, methinks. We don't go anymore.

This may sound far-fetched and like a lie but the old king died (was killed actually) and my father was chosen from a selection to be next. Which is... Okay. With him not around, especially around the holidays, at least we can somewhat feel freer. My mother's leaving for the village on Saturday.

I'm nineteen years old, now. I'll move out soon. I don't know what Christmas will be like in the future. I don't know if I'll leave this country and have a white Christmas of my own or not. I know snow matters to some people... My brother still really wants to see it while my interest declined as I grew... Regardless.

It's been okay. I think it'll be okay everywhere. Maybe some day I'll have someone in my corner that'll make it exciting for me like they do in Hallmark movies. I can't imagine it but it's possible. My mother tries. Meals and Christmas lights and presents. I think I have a lot of bad memories around this holiday, though. Time spent pretending to be comfortable around visitors when I was a child, rather than being with close family only. Some shouting. Church scheisse I guess.

I'm not the most social person - which isn't very common in Africa, at least by the faces most put up - but I guess I forced myself to pretend for long enough that I got tired.

This is more autobiographical than I would have liked it to be. I felt it was meant to be some sort of story but I have no prettier stories to write. I'm not a Christmas fan. I'm sort of drained at the moment, less red and green in sparkly ribbons and more mute, monotone grey. To all who have the Christmas spirit burning in their hearts, maybe you have fonder times to share. To all who have white Christmases, mine will be the brown of our sands and the clearness of our sweat as always. No school is a pleasant reward.

I may spend most of the holiday in this state. Most of my life, maybe. It makes me feel nothing but at least, I don't feel hatred for the holiday anymore. I'll be made to go to Church on the day itself. Wear a dress. My mother will likely ask me to wear earrings. She'll be beaming as she gets ready, then become stressed, then wonder why we're late yet again...

Actually, she'll be gone. I wish I could say I'll make it a fun time for my brother but I don't want to make myself pretend to enjoy myself? It's... Exhausting? Just like convincing myself to "write better" so it can be "good enough" to be posted here is exhausting. I should write like this more often. A little journal entry to ease my mind.

Dear journal, dear strangers, dear... Myself. I'm a little tired. A little brain-hurty. I get overstimulated at the slightest instance cos of how sensitive I and my brain are. Las las... We survived yet another year. I do not know how. I don't even know why at times. But we made it. Christmas may not mean a thing to me, especially not the baby Jesus the holiday was appropriated for (that's probably the right phrase to use) but I guess I'm thankful that I'm sticking to being alive so I can find out what comes next.

There may or may not be much to do when you're dead so... I guess I can't wait to watch Old Guard 2 and the last season of Umbrella Academy next year. We all have what we hold, right? Happy holidays... Hoes...? I dunno. Bye bye humans and all else.