It’s only November, but I already feel that familiar ache, the kind of nostalgia that creeps in long before the countdown to Christmas arrives. Christmas is still weeks away, yet as an 18-year-old in college, I can’t help but miss it in a way that I never expected.
Back home, the holiday season seemed to start the moment Halloween ended. But here, in a dorm room with fluorescent lighting and cinderblock walls, the transition feels less magical and more like something I’m missing from afar.
When I was younger, November was exciting because it meant Christmas was close enough to taste. I could practically feel the season moving in, the early sunsets, the colder weather, the first snow, and the Christmas lights slowly appearing around the neighborhood. My mom would start pulling out decorations, and even though we wouldn’t have the tree up just yet, I’d look inside the boxes just to see the familiar ornaments and decorations. Everything felt slow and cozy, as if the world was easing itself into holiday spirit.
This November is different. Instead of slowly building anticipation, I feel like I’m stuck in fast-forward. College doesn’t leave much space for the quiet, gentle beginning of the holiday season. The weeks fly by in a blur of classes, assignments, meetings, and trying to keep myself balanced. I see Christmas commercials and early holiday sales, but they don’t hit the same. They remind me of something I miss rather than something I’m getting ready to experience.
What I miss the most is the comfort of it all, the traditions, the way my whole house seemed to shift into a different kind of warmth as the season approached. At home, November sounded like my mom and I singing Mariah Carey’s “All I Want For Christmas Is You,” getting peppermint milkshakes, and debating on when we would put up the tree. Now, November feels busy and loud. Even though Christmas is coming, it doesn’t wrap itself around me the way it once used to.
Being 18 makes the nostalgia hit harder. I miss the version of myself that counted down the days, who believed the world got a little softer in winter, and who didn’t think about finals or travel plans, or how fast everything changes. But missing Christmas in November also means memories still matter. And maybe that’s its own kind of comfort.
Even here, surrounded by textbooks and the constant hum of dorm life, a piece of that magic still finds me in small ways: a song on a playlist, a cup of hot chocolate (even if it’s not a peppermint milkshake), a late-night conversation about what my friends and I miss from home. It’s not the same, but it’s something.
Christmas is coming, regardless, even if it feels farther away. from campus than it ever did at home. And maybe when I finally get there, when I walk through my front door in December and see the tree lit up, I’ll appreciate it even more. For now, in November, I’m holding onto the nostalgia, letting it remind me of where I came from and the traditions waiting for me just a few weeks from now.