A Student’s Reflection on Christmas
“So This Is Christmas” by Aria Bluemel - Year 10

Christmas always arrives suddenly. One day you see people like Michael Myers and the Joker walking around, and the next, everyone you know is wishing you a Merry Christmas as you drive away from your familiar surroundings to rejoin the ones you had left behind the year prior. The season, however, announces itself in soft whispers—the crackle of frost beneath your feet, the darkening evenings, and the light snows that cover the landscape like a blanket. A reminder from your mother that it’s time to leave the summer clothes behind (no matter how reluctant you are to do so). Each sound feels like a tiny bell reminding us that winter has woven its way into the world again.

By mid-December, the holiday spirit becomes impossible to ignore. Houses glow like lanterns, gently reminding us to enjoy their beautiful hue before they are packed away into musty garages or attics. Streets shimmer with strings of colour that place a smile on any face that witnesses such a spectacle. Inside, kitchens grow warm and fragrant. Cinnamon curls through the air like a ribbon of sweetness, while gingerbread bakes as a child waits with anticipation and relish for the timer to ring—like a Christmas spirit insisting on filling every corner of the home with comfort. It’s as though the ingredients themselves know the importance of the season and rise to the occasion.

Families gather, each voice weaving into a tapestry of nostalgic sounds—rich, layered, and beautiful. Children race around the living room with excitement, their footsteps pattering across the floor as they go to observe with delight the collection of presents placed carefully under the tree. Even the tree seems to come alive, its branches stretching proudly, its lights more pleasing to
the eye than any sapphire could be.

On Christmas Eve, time slows. The night becomes a velvet blanket, heavy with stillness, draped over rooftops and chimneys. People settle into a quiet expectation: stories are told, mugs are filled with warm drinks, and children find it hard to fall asleep, picturing the joys the next day is bound to bring. If you're lucky enough, you may even see the snow falling outside your window, raining down from the heavens, patiently awaiting the children who will inevitably come to make snowmen.

And then comes Christmas morning, bursting like a sunrise that refuses to wait. Laughter spills into the air, gifts rustle open with eager energy, and the world seems so perfect. For a moment, everything feels lighter, kinder, sharper with meaning. Christmas, in the end, is not a single day but a shimmering feeling—a reminder that joy can echo even in the quietest places, and that traditions, old or newly made, are the threads that tie us together.