The past couple of days has been snowy and icy. Yesterday was overcast and rainy. Whatever Christmas spirit I had went down the drains much like the slushy snow that melted with the precipitation. I got invited to a Pinoy family get together last night, Christmas eve. The invite was from a co-worker in the unit. I did not want to go but she was insistent. Admittedly, my well thought plan was to stay in my pyjamas and drink all the hot chocolate I wanted. Lenny (my new laptop and friend) and I needed to get seriously acquainted. Oh well...
I had my leche flan and cassava cake on hand (yes, homemade! and I make a mean banana bread laden with chocolate chips) as we waited at the porch for the door to open. There were dreadfully sombre looking snowbanks and despite the festive display of lights on each homestead, it seemed isolated...I did not see a soul. Quite a complete contrast to the multitudes of loitering people back in the P.I. on this same occasion. Finally, the light from within swathed and beckoned us to come in.
The family is big. Think three generations. The patriarch is a 92 year old who has as much vigor as a 20 year old. He and his jovial 86 year old wife bore eight children. Among all of them, I lost count how many children there are ranging from 9 to 29 years old. I felt like an intruder. But they were so warm and genuinely happy to have me there. I felt so mopey inside that I held back tears threatening to break my ducts. This is what Christmas is about. Sharing. Giving. Laughter. Love. Family.
I wondered how my dad would do...how we all would do. First christmas without Ma.
As per our tradition, more of Ma's really, the piece de resistance was turkey and stuffing, gravy and cranberry sauce prepared then by aling Miling and now, aling Rosa. It was a great ceremony for her to carve it as we sit down for noche buena after coming back from midnight mass. I remember finishing my share and yet I always find my plate brimming with more.Then after dinner, we would pose for pictures galore as per our in-house photographer, Ma. Exchange of gifts that followed would never fail to elicit squeals of glee and delight from the kids. More pictures for Ma to take.
This christmas would be one like none before. Melancholy and remembering.
A time to be thankful for what and whom we have cherished. A time to further enrich existing relationships and embark on new ones.
Strains of "I'm dreaming of a white christmas" could be softly heard then.
I shivered.
"I'll be home for christmas" played in my head. Next time. For sure.
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