I had always wanted to see it. I grew up wanting it but never having it. Sure I could always see it on TV or hear my mom talk about it, but I wanted to experience it. Even my father at the time had not been around it, but he eventually got to and all he would talk about during the holidays was his first impressions of it. I’m not sure if it was with my mother or not, but he was able to see it in first person. For the longest time, I was the only member of my family to not know what it was like. Even my cousins in Florida got to it way before I ever got to. Now I am not saying that I tried, but the world has a funny way of creating complications when it comes to small things I want in life. I thought I had lost my chance to see it, but I knew that when I chose to go to school in the North Shore, it was only a matter of waiting to finally get to see, touch and play in the snow.

Mexico for some reason is viewed as a desert. I don’t really know how this became a widely known rumor, but it reaches farther than I thought. Sure the borders are pretty arid, but as soon as you start going south you start hitting some pretty good climates. The city stays in a comfortable area between 45 to 80-degrees constantly. There will be weird occasions where a “heat wave” is reported, and we reach an unbearable 90-degree day, and on the coldest fronts maybe scratch 30 degrees, and that only lasts like three hours after midnight. Naturally, during winter not a single snowflake can be seen. Technically that is not true, due to the fact that two of the volcanoes that surround the city are covered in snow. But, apart from that and anything on TV, that was all I ever knew snow to be like.

I would only be states side during summer. Nothing but beach all-day and hanging with friends all night. Nothing crazy, but definitely a place to let loose and feel more like myself than back home. Nothing personal, but I couldn’t fight feeling like I belonged more in the US than in Mexico, but that’s more of a personal identity crisis type of deal. However, when it came to be the holidays, all we would get were cards with people surrounded by white powder. Stacking up and covering buildings. People using it as balls to throw at each other, snowboard and ski. All these things were so strange and amazing to me, even just finding out how cold snow is to the skin would boggle my mind.

Expectations were high for our first meeting. One of my favorite films, Home Alone, showcases the big apple in all its glory during winter. Next thing I know my parents book our first flight to spend Christmas in the states when I was about eleven or twelve. As the plane starts to make its decent, the same Newark Airport I would see every July greets me. Not a spec of snow in sight. I turn to my mother, just absolutely broken down and question her as to why this horrible thing has happened to me! Deplane and straight to immigration. The TSA agent is asking my mom what we were doing abroad, and she’s running through the typical “Oh I actually live there, my husband is from there, this is my son and we visit my family here…” story of who we are. In the midst of all the adult talk going on, I have a huge frown on my face. The officer asks me what is wrong and when I tell him about my wishes for snow, he laughs and talks about how NYC is getting hit with a weird heat wave and there isn’t fake snow in the Poconos either. Of course when I tell him I wanted snow, he just smiled and told me that anyone from New York loved the fact that snow did not show up that year, and they were praying and hoping it’d stay that way. Alas, NYC was a lot of fun, but it was another year without a white Christmas for Diego.

I never saw snow since that point, not until college. I had no idea what I was supposed to expect, and my first purchase in preparation was ridiculously big boots. It didn’t even hit me that I had never worn boots before. Not a single pair of any type of boot in 19 years. Flip-flops were as extravagant as I would get, and I HIGHLY recommend going for a barefoot lifestyle. Either way, that’s off topic. So there I was, freshman year, spending Thanks Giving at family friend’s house as well as a school friend’s house I had been at for the first half of the break. When I had to leave my friends house is when it started snowing, and I was in the car. I didn’t want to ask our friend to stop and let me out, but instead I just sat there and watched. I can’t really remember if I stopped talking to her, or if she was saying anything, but all I could focus on was these small dots falling slowly to the ground, while they would zoom by the side of the car. In front of me it seemed like they would hit me, and then the windshield would just do its job and they would disappear instead of hitting me square in the face.

When I got back to campus after break, I was finally able to live out my life long wish, and wrote my name in the snow. First try, and no typo. Pretty proud of myself. As the years have gone by I have been around snow now three times. I just learned how to ski last winter break and I only fell twice! Either way, snow and I have what you may call a love hate relationship. I love it, but hate I can’t do anything with it. Sure being col sucks, but hey, that’s snow I guess. All I know is, yes it’s bullshit how cold it gets to the point where I don’t want to make it to the gym, but I’m more interested in seeing someone have their first not white Christmas. My girlfriend is coming to visit and it will be her fist time in warmer weather for the holidays, so I’m not sure what to expect. Either way, if you have never had a not white Christmas, just hit me up and we can make it happen. Whether you are freezing your ass of up in a cottage in the middle of nowhere, or sipping a drink by the sea on a sunny day, Happiest of Holidays to you! ~ad astra ultraque