December to me is waiting beside the window, with the sleeves of my sweater rolled down to my fingertips yet my eyes fixated outside, as it might snow any second, any time. December to me is waiting for the day to come when our shed is covered in snow and ready to be decorated with a snowman.
It is the excitement of going out to play, with boots sinking into the snow and to pick up snow just to yell that it is so cold that I feel it through my gloves- still, to throw it on my sibling anyway. And finally we succumb to peace, when both of us are tired enough from the snowball fight, and decide mutually to make a snowman, even though I had first said that anyway.
December to me is when I finish making the snowman, the sense of having been productive takes over. Albeit the snowman may be small and fragile, with the carrot falling out every second or so, and for it to just melt away after a while, the snowman stands firm on his round body with a smile so wide that our lips automatically mirror it.
December to me is the warm chocolate cake my mom makes on Christmas Eve. It is the groans leaving my mouth when I wake up each day, knowing I’ll have to leave the bed and unfortunately take a bath. December to me is my mom gasping at the electricity bill just for my sister and me to cry, ‘It’s so cold. We need to keep the heater on, to study.’
It is the delight of when I’ll get to eat my dad’s warm, hot carrot dessert, the delight of waiting for the time to come when we can put up the Christmas tree, just for my cat to crash it over and we can make it up again, and the delight of seeing my family bunched up together in thick blankets, enjoying a movie as if all is right, whatever may be going on in our lives.
December to me is what December is to everyone- White, vivid and blankets; Soup, hot chocolate and bed, and; shivering smiles, chattering teeth and rubbing palms. December is cold to think about yet brings a warmth in my heart.
Written by Monisha Jasrai
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