The 12 days of Christmas
January 4, 2003 | 12:00am
My daughter Sarri tells me that the 12 days of Christmas, beginning Christmas and ending on Epiphany night (before some busybodies turned that into a moveable feast), represents the difference between the solar and the lunar calendars. These are the days when one calendar gives in to another, when the one who finished first waits for the other one to catch up. It’s like the universe is telling us to sit and count or reckon what has happened while we wait for what will happen next. Certain sectors believe that each of those 12 days really represents a month in the coming year.
How interesting that concept is. Whenever something drags me down, I say: This time next year, life will be different. Today, I assess if this has been true. Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, without a doubt. Last year I was fearful, did not know what life would become, did not know how that mortgage would be paid after I managed to write myself out of business plan. A year later, I smile and thank God. My house is still mine. There are even more blessings to count.
I sat with friends whose lives also went haywire in 2002. "We went through really tough times," they said, "but just when you needed them, new opportunities opened up that tapped other resources. New revenue streams kept our heads above water. Okay, we’re not flush with cash but we’re not broke either. Just enough plus a modest tip. Really, in that way 2002 was amazing."
More so because it was the same for me. It could make you believe in the position of the planets or something. Looking back I have to say that the difficulties of 2002 were driven by my own fears and anxieties. Now at year-end, I’ll have to say it was a terrific year. I tapped into different resources and discovered myself. I found I was a darned good teacher and that’s because I love doing it. I’m being entrepreneurial about writing and teaching and it works. I’m not earning what I used to earn in the corporate sector, but neither am I so bound to problems not of my own making. My time is my own. I have so many new friends.
Okay, my car is old but it runs well. Someone told me kidnappers check your bank account before they kidnap you, so I feel so safe. This Christmas I spent on food more than anything else. My home enriches my life in unexpected ways. I was wrapping gifts in my studio but forgot something in my bedroom. When I went, I saw a big lizard with a big head coming out of one of my book baskets. Omigod, I have a tuko (gecko) in my bedroom. A million screams broke out, all silent. I’m broken in by now.
I remember spending a few nights in a home in Palawan where the lady of the house showed me the tuko, much uglier than mine, in their master bedroom. It never fell on them. It never did any of those hair-raising things they say tuko do. So instead of panicking, I just adjust. I poke everything I need to access with a long plastic ruler to warn the tuko that it’s time to get out. Maybe the house should be better sealed but before I sleep when I look up at my ceiling, I see big fireflies, not tuko, and I feel protected by special spirits.
"Are you awake, darling?" Don’t get excited. This is my grandson Julian I’m sleeping with.
"Yes?" he says.
"Open your eyes. Look at the fireflies."
"They’re so big," he says, enchantment in his voice.
Last Christmas I thought my heart would break when my older grandchildren, whom I expected for Christmas lunch, did not arrive. They live abroad. I don’t see them much. Well, what can you do? Even grandchildren grow, go away, fly. It happens to the best of us. The little grandchildren who were here, also four, also three boys and a girl, heretofore overshadowed by their older cousins, broke through their shells and took the floor spontaneously. They had been very shy but this time, without prompting from the adults, Sancho hit the piano keys, Maxine sang at the top of her lungs while Andres looked at her adoringly and laughed and clapped. Julian, the eldest among them and closest to me, sat on my lap and said, "I want to stay here with you." My heart mended. If this is the future, I thought, then it will be wonderful. One window closes and a double-door opens.
So I’ve spent the 12 days of Christmas sifting. This I want, this I don’t. This I need, this I can live without. We read the signs and determine what should be shed and what should be treasured. We prepare for the coming year dropping random pieces of life into a bowl to see what stew they make by the end of 2003.
To all out there, especially my students, classmates and friends, whose Christmas greetings on text and e-mail I ignored because I was too busy moving from room to room warding off tukos, wrapping gifts, counting fireflies and grandchildren, I hope your Christmas was wonderful and may the new year unite us all in joy and laughter. Those are the blessings of the season from my heart to yours.
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