when i was still a kid, i had an unspoken mantra that christmas should never pass without decorations. and because i was always the one who’s most excited about it, i appointed myself chair of our christmas tree, an appointment received with no objections.
our christmas tree was just small and simple. it might even been bought for a bargain, because it wasn’t at all pretty. but i had fun putting it up and dressing it with little santas and angels and lights that once it was done, i would always boast my work to my ninang who’s just a door away, and who would always give me the most positive comments.
sooner or later, my titas and titos would start appearing outside our doors for the christmas visits. i was so timid and shy then that i would retreat to the bedroom and hide upon their arrival. and so my mother had to fetch me so i could mano and greet them hi.
but that didn’t even mean i would start talking to them. they perfectly knew as adults that they could never get a kid to smile at them without some simple bribery. and so they have to give me five pesos first and buy me a pack of hebi and a handful of 25c red bubblegum before i’d be convinced that they are really my titos and titas.
this is just one of the many humurous stories that my mother would never tire of sharing to some of her friends, stories that she would never tire of laughing at. i couldn’t remember anymore the exact details of those stories, but they left an indelible message that would forever be part of my existence: that i was such an brat before, as happy as a brat can be.
a decade has passed. many things have changed, most leaning to the worse than to the better. and it’s christmas again. oh how happy people seem to be are, while im trapped in the same maudlin sentimentalities that seemed to have attached their lives to me.
i admit that the decade has not passed by in the propitious way i would have dreamed them to pass. my life has been exposed to many travails i never imagined i would come across to. and those experiences, most of which are negative, had left me bruised for life, i just don’t know how i could even go on.
true, my life now is very far from the carefree family and social milieu i had before, but the memories of childhood never failed to come back once in a while, although remembering them brought as much pain as joy.
hearing some of jose mari chan’s christmas classics this morning, for instance, caught me in reverie and brought me back to the blissful moments of childhood. i saw myself again in those solo caroling adventures, in my vigil in front of my ninang’s sari-sari store, waiting for my christmas aguinaldo, and in my glass-breaking concertos during the christmas eve. i saw myself once more running for the band passing by our neighborhood, crying over a pink hanky gift i received from a party, and panicking away when i mistook super lolos as loose gunfire. and yet, such memories seem too far away now, they are almost unrecognizable. im afraid that through old age, i might even regard them as other’s rather than mine. but i hope that it would not.
even our little christmas tree, the same christmas tree i used to put up and dress never failed to cross my mind. in fact, it’s still with me, lying unwashed in the closet waiting to be revived. but i’ve long resigned from being its chair that it has never been put up in three years. and i guess it never will be put up again, for i find no reason that i still should. christmas has long lost its meaning in my life.
i am no brat anymore. the enthusiasm of childish innocence is gone, and what has replaced it is the haggardness of life wasted and almost lost. i don’t know if any of the christmasses in the years would be the same jolly christmas i used to love, for i think that the last real christmas i experienced was when my father is still alive, when everything was still going in the way i wanted them to, without meaning to, without even asking for. all i could do now i guess is to be thankful that although life seemed so dark overhead, i still have a reason to smile, for even for just the first 13 years, i’ve felt so happy and loved.
Last thursday and friday, we had our overnight recollection at the dominican house of prayer at the shrine hills. the che gang were with the me hunks and a couple of adoptees. the place was great, the air cool, the food sumptuous and abounding, and the rooms clean and neat.
somehow, i finally found the bright side of recollection, and i knew i’d be looking forward to it again. a recollection is like a mirror, where you are encouraged to see yourself that you can admire what you already have and fix whatever that needs repair. my indifference before to such a mirror was due to the fear that i’d be seeing a cursed portrait of dorian gray. but now that i’ve finally sought to see myself in that mirror, i realized that i am not so bad after all.
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