“Tuire, do you know why we celebrate Christmas?” my mother asked, sporting her bright red, short 80s hairstyle. She bent down and gently took hold of my shoulder: “This is the celebration of Jesus’ birth.”
I looked at my mother, bored. “Why do you have to drag that Jesus into everything?”
No matter how fast the pace or what direction you’re heading in, for me Christmas is about taking a brief break from reality. You’re allowed to be a little elf with a clear conscience. Sledding down hills in the Savonian landscape (lots of rocks and changes in elevation) is a reminder that a little fear of death on Christmas Eve brings a nice flush to your cheeks. I also recommend sled-surfing, making snow angels between sauna sessions, and trying to fend off an overwhelmingly strong opponent’s attempt at a snow wash. A few years ago we ended up playing beach volleyball instead. To be fair, we chickened out enough to keep our sneakers on. Whatever the weather, at Christmas you’re allowed to romp and play.
On the eve I feel good despite what the ECB is doing. I will now, arbitrarily, give you permission to relate. You can eat excessively, be as commercial with Christmas presents as you feel like, you can take more naps and stare at the candle flame without anyone doubting your sanity. Above all, you can just be happy that another year is coming to an end and a new one is already looming ahead.
Thank you for this exciting year, we’ll be back after the holidays.