Home away from home: A Christmas in the capital

The city fell silent, wrapped in winter's hush,

its heartbeat slowed by snow.

Christmas lights blinked on silent streets,

their glow, a quiet reminder of distant traditions.

I, an ocean away from home,

felt the weight of distance most in December.

No familiar carols, no scent of spices from my mother’s kitchen,

only the hum of radiators and the quiet of dorm rooms left behind.

But I wasn’t alone.

Others stayed too—

their homes scattered across maps,

their hearts brimming with their own stories of absence.

We found each other in this stillness,

an accidental family drawn together

by the quiet ache of a shared holiday apart.

Snow fell gently that night,

transforming Washington DC into a wonderland.

For some of us, it was the first—

tiny flakes dancing on our cheeks,

laughter erupting as we fumbled to catch them.

My first snowball soared,

an arc of joy across the frosty air,

shattering the quiet with playful shrieks.

We walked the National Mall,

snow angels marking the ground like fleeting art,

each as unique as the homes we’d left behind.

Mauritius, India, Peru, Zambia—

worlds apart but stitched together

in the chill of a foreign winter.

Later, we gathered in the dorms,

a feast of everywhere and nowhere spread before us.

Our Christmas was pieced together—

homemade decorations, recipes found online,

a borrowed speaker blaring mismatched songs.

We laughed at our attempts to mimic tradition,

to fold ourselves into the season’s warmth.

Christmas in Washington DC—

a season not of what was lost,

but of what we found.