There’s something beautiful about a season characterized by the desire for happiness: the mundane rush to class feels surreal when fluffy white snow coats sidewalks; gazing wistfully through the wall of windows in Colectivo Coffee with a Peppermint Fluff Latte brings out the Rory Gilmore in each of us. And being cold suddenly feels nice — we notice less the reds in our fingertips than the rosiness in our faces, the warmth filling Allison Hall more than the cold surrounding The Arch.

I believe it’s not about the snow. It isn’t the lights or music, the flavors or even the winding down of classes and workloads. I love the holiday season because it brings out the childhood versions of everyone around me.

I don’t celebrate any winter holidays. My family has never had a Christmas tree or turkey dinner, and there isn’t a holiday I spend months counting down to, but Northwestern Happiness Club hosted a gingerbread house decorating event in University Hall. History Prof. Scott Sowerby belted an intricate, historical three-minute ballad to conclude our final lecture of the quarter, bringing cheer inspired by and completely unrelated to the holidays. Lopsided snowmen lined the sidewalks with button-eyes and stick-smiles. Students returned to campus after Thanksgiving to find trees surrounding Sheridan Road decked in a silver glow. My roommate and I sat on our windowsill with my guitar as the temperatures dropped, reminiscing over previous winters and future dreams. I started writing poems again. Energy spread from person to person, overtaking campus with childlike laughter.

The first snow of this academic year reminded me how much joy the simplest things can bear. I was almost late to my first class, my 10-minute walk doubling as I slipped along the sidewalk in my tractionless shoes, but my professor grinned as I stumbled through the doors, several snowballs’ worth of snow clinging to my hair. My friends and I made time for a hot chocolate run that we would have been “too busy” for if this fleeting winter wonderland had not reminded us that certain memories are time-sensitive and worth prioritizing. 

The holiday season is meaningful because we’re willing to make our own magic, see excitement in what we wouldn’t have expected to and find happiness merely because we are looking for it. The day after Thanksgiving, stores blast “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” and “Carol of the Bells” over and over again, and none of us complain.

I’m organizing a Secret Santa for my friends, and I hosted Friendsgiving last week. My Dec. 25 will come and go as an average winter day, but Dec. 26 will be filled with far more life than the 26th of any other month can compare to. This time is not inherently special — we make it special, celebrating what would feel normal from February to October, giving ourselves a fair chance to be captivated. 

Experiencing the holiday season as a freshman offers new layers of complexity; Winter Break will come bearing my oldest friends, returning home for the holidays. I’ll be away from the people I’ve spent the extremely chaotic and intense past few months with. No matter which home I’m in from now on, there will always be people to miss. And so, we’ve made bucket lists to savor the time, checking off experiences during reading week and between finals. From visiting the Christkindlmarket to traversing the CTA Holiday Train, and preparing a cross-cultural feast in Shepard Hall to adding wildly complicated harmonies to classic winter songs, we’re making the absolute most of this animated time that we know is fleeting. 

In this season, we cling to every little moment, and it’s this perspective that bundles us in warmth superior to that of winter coats and earmuffs, decorating the dark sky in golden ornaments and the wind in carols hummed beneath our breaths.    

Sophia Memon is a Medill freshman. She can be contacted at [email protected]. If you would like to respond publicly to this op-ed, send a Letter to the Editor to [email protected]. The views expressed in this piece do not necessarily reflect the views of all staff members of The Daily Northwestern.

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