Everyone here talks about how lucky we are.
“No cold,” they say.
“No grey streets,” they say.
“Summer all year,” they say.

And yes, it sounds perfect. Until December comes.

My calendar says winter.
My brain says winter.
My body waits for scarves, cold air, and that quiet feeling snow brings.
But outside? Palm trees. Sun. Shorts.

It’s confusing.

I miss snow in a very specific way.
Not the dirty slush.
Not frozen fingers.
But the atmosphere.
The silence.
The feeling that the world slows down for a moment.

Without snow, winter feels unfinished.
Like a sentence without a period.

New Year without snow feels especially strange.
Lights are everywhere, music is playing, people are celebrating — but something is missing. That soft background calm that only snow can create.

Living in South America is beautiful, but it requires emotional flexibility.
You learn to celebrate holidays differently.
You learn to let go of expectations you didn’t even realize you had.

Still, sometimes I catch myself smiling at photos of snowy streets.
White mornings.
Cold air.
That simple, quiet magic.

Maybe one day I’ll spend a winter where snow actually exists again.
Until then, I’ll keep laughing about it — and reminding myself that every place has its own version of beauty, even if it doesn’t come in white.