Here in New York it feels more like L.A., breaking 70 degrees on Christmas Eve! I’m here instead of with my family because the unseasonable warmth caused thick fog yesterday, which made my flight
be cancelled. I will travel on Christmas Day instead, so all my plans are out of whack.
The good news is, my friends have stepped in so I won’t spend Christmas Eve alone. I will see my family tomorrow. But this unusual warmth reminds of all the places where it’s routinely warm at Christmas. In Australia, it’s summertime; in Brazil, it never gets cold. Even in L.A., winter tends to be rainy and gloomy only in January.
Did you know there’s a prelude to “White Christmas?” Irving Berlin wrote the song from the perspective of someone who’s not home for the holidays, and is homesick for a traditional Christmas. Here’s how it reads:
The sun is shining, the grass is green, The orange and palm trees sway.
There’s never been such a day…in Beverly Hills, L.A.
But it’s December, the twenty-fourth,…..
And I am longing to be up North.
I’m dreaming of a white Christmas…
It’s the most melancholy of Christmas songs. It kind of hits that sweet spot of sad, nostalgic, and lovely all at the same time.
So here’s wishing all of you a Merry Christmas, white or not. May your days be merry and bright…
writinghersense 