I
t’s that time
of year again.
The time of year I curse under my
breath for weeks on end. The time
of year I constantly ask myself why
I choose to live in a place that hurts
my face when I walk outside my front
door. The time of year I would
happily trade in snowflakes for
sunshine, parkas for tank tops, and
snow boots for flip-flops.
It is also the time of year I secretly
adore.
There is nothing like the buildup to
the holiday season. It holds an
exciting and almost magical
connotation about it. Storefronts and
residential homes alike decking their
halls, holiday music filling the air
with promise of joy and hope, and
that unmistakable smell of a
neighbour’s wood burning fireplace
encapsulates everything the season
is about for me.
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