Christmas memories

Christmas Eve. I remember when I was small how excited I would be, unable to breathe in anticipation of Santa Claus’ coming. We had no chimney but Mommy said he would find his way in. I would quietly walk around the house trying to figure out where the big red man would pass.  He couldn’t pass through the windows because we had grills. Our doors were heavy, he couldn’t slide them when he was overloaded with gifts.  Suddenly it dawned on me. He was a spirit so he could maneuver noiselessly through any surface.  His reindeer too were spirits so he could leave them anywhere. 

That was the magic of Christmas. Your imagination supplied the answers to everything and they were always poetic and beautiful. The magic was thickest when I was small because Christmas was woven from stories my mother told, my own wild and vivid imagination, my wondering about the gifts that Santa Claus would bring. I grew older and fell off Santa’s list but . . .

We lived in a compound in Old Sta. Mesa, four houses all the same. The first house was occupied by the family of Alfonso Calalang, the father of gourmet Conrad Calalang.  He was one of the top executives of the Central Bank then. The next house belonged to Nicanor Tomas, I think he was superintendent of banks at the Central Bank.  He was my surrogate father who I totally adored. His wife was my grandmother’s youngest sister. Then there were the Cosculuellas and finally my grandmother’s house.

When I was a tall 12, Lolo Ponso, which is what I called Alfonso Calalang, called me as I passed by on Christmas morning and gave me a small bottle of French perfume.  Here, he said, because you’re growing up. To me that moment was unforgettable. It was like my early entry into womanhood.

Time passed and I had little children of my own. This season I was always so busy making lists, Christmas shopping, wrapping gifts, decorating Christmas trees, baking, cooking. I smile when I remember those  times in that huge, beautiful albeit haunted house we lived in then. How happy the children were! How I fell in love with a small plexiglass tree and ordered a six-foot version of it for my only son. He has it now. In around five years it will be considered an antique. Can you imagine an antique plexiglass tree? Of course you can! You can imagine anything at Christmas.

That all depends on your circumstances of course. My life splintered on December 15, 1977. Forty years ago next year! Then it simplified. I turned into a working single mom who always thought she would die of exhaustion on Christmas Eve. That’s when we established our ritual. The children spent Christmas Eve with their father, giving me time to organize their gifts and set them under the tree. My Christmas spirit always sneaked in very late but I always had it because the children were around.              Our time together was Christmas lunch when we always had either a roast capon or a turkey that I got up early in the morning to prepare and we always lunched together with a lot of laughter.

Now my children are all grown up ranging in age from 53, the eldest, to 45, the youngest. They all have children of their own. They are scattered all over the world. My oldest grandson is 31 and the youngest 14. Our Christmas lunch this year has been rescheduled to Dec. 27 because my oldest grandson here in the Philippines is now in college in New York. He is coming home for Christmas but flying on Christmas Day itself.  Since the USA is behind us in time that means he will be flying more or less on Dec. 26. So Christmas is postponed for me this year.

But that doesn’t really matter because I am in my 70s. One thing I have learned about being 70 and living alone is your Christmas spirit is nowhere to be found. It isn’t on my porch where I should have a lantern or Christmas lights or some festive thing. I have grape lights that I set up two years ago and haven’t brought down nor lit since. Maybe I can light them on Christmas Eve to make myself a little merry or whatever. I don’t have a Christmas tree no matter how small. Just didn’t feel like looking for one or even setting up the tree I set up last Christmas. I’m just too lazy this year.

But I am content to remember Christmases past with my children. How happy we all once were, how glorious our Christmases were. I hope they too remember wherever they are and they remember how much we loved each other as we revisit all our beautiful memories in our hearts.

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