So I’ve never been too into the Christmas spirit. It wasn’t really a big deal around my house while I was growing up. Nobody made a fuss if there was ham and cheese for Noche Buena or that all the presents were wrapped and the Christmas tree put up. Sometimes there were decorations dumped out from old boxes and sometimes the entire family would be together for dinner on the 24th. But nobody went out of their way to make this one day extra, extra special as other children have been led to believe. Far from being a Scrooge or a Grinch, the nonchalantness of it all was because it wasn’t such a logical occasion. I think the whole family just went along with it for fear of being the outcasts in the community. I think I might’ve preferred if we’d forgotten it altogether than a half-hearted effort. The Dad kept asking, “Why not? Why not?” as I kept answering, “Because we just don’t.” We don’t put up trees and decor because they just cost too much. We don’t buy ham because the price is overrated. We don’t give presents because everyone has enough.
The Dad: Aren’t your people, like, religious freaks? Shouldn’t you be the ones obssessing about Christmas?
The Mom: It is precisely because of that. If you really want to get technical about it, the birth of Christ didn’t actually occur on the month of December as people originally thought. The wise men took a while to get to where Jesus was born. And besides, if you were really religious, then you should not wait for December to praise Him. Why waste a perfectly good year sitting around and then scrambling madly come December?
The Dad: Forget I asked.
23 YEARS of Christmases and I can’t remember a sinlge one that didn’t end in tears or .. yeah, nope .. just tears. Shall I relay to you my oh-so joyous holiday stories? It won’t have dunk uncles but it will contain a lot of bad presents.
There was this one Christmas where the family decided to do a little decorating and put up the tiny plastic tree that we had. My mother put it up begrudgingly, constantly muttering under her breath on being the one left to clean up the whole, inconvenient mess afterwards. We had A [singular, ONE] stocking and no chimney to hang it on. Christmas eve came and we had dinner. Nothing elaborately cooked. Just some meat under a lot of vegetables. There was ONE PRESENT under the Christmas tree for my sister and I. We were meant to share it.
Another Christmas where there was absolutely no preparation for the occasion. No tree, no lights, no presents, nothing. My Dad was already working in Manila, leaving my mother, my sister, and I back in the province. My mother left while my sister and I were taking our afternoon nap to spend the day (and apparently, night, with her boyfriend). For Noche Buena, we had no food. The refrigerator was empty. And so was the house. We ended up watching Little Drummer Boy on the telly and falling asleep on empty stomachs. Need I say that there were no presents come Christmas morning?
A great Christmas I had was spending it with my mother’s family in her province. It was great seeing the cousins, aunts, uncles, and grandparents. It made you forget that you hated were indifferent to the season. The house had all the tinsels and trimmings of a stereotypical Christmas. It looked like the window displays outside the malls. Christmas Eve came and there was a great big feast. We ate until we were about to burst and then ate some more. Just before we went to bed, I went looking for my mom and dad. Again, they were nowhere to be found. But it’s not like I haven’t been there, so I shrugged it off. My grandma found me and talked to me. I thought she was going to bring some special gift, seeing as I was her oldest, female granddaughter. She said, “Did you know, that your mother used to date a doctor before she got married to your father? If she hadn’t gotten pregnant and forced to marry your father, she would’ve lived a comfortable life. It’s because of you that she’s miserable.” Did it matter that I got loads of presents (okay, socks, but they still count) that Christmas morning? I didn’t think so.
And even when I was all grown-up and understood that there was no Santa and that buying presents were such a bitch, I still ended up with bad Christmases. Last year, the Dad and I fought on the week of Christmas because I wouldn’t come along with his family to spend it in Baguio. It wasn’t because I didn’t want to or that anyone was stopping me. I still saw Christmas as being with your family even if it was the crappiest family that was ever formed on the face of this earth. There was still a principle behind Christmas family gatherings. This is how it went down last year.
Add to this list a slew of Christmases being forced to choose between parents. They can be such children sometimes. They force you to decide and then pout and spew when you don’t pick them. Fuck them, I say. But don’t take pity on my Christmas-less childhood because I don’t. It’s fine that I never got the Santa fantasy or tons of presents and toys because that was what I grew up with. It was my truth. And my truth trumps everyone else’s. No matter what you say.
