Recreating the Christmas in my memories

I sometimes find myself sitting on the couch with just the Christmas lights on and staring at the lights dance, just like what I did when I was young.

A day before Christmas Eve and I’m feeling a tad pensive than usual. I was at the seafood shop, staring at the iced containers filled to the brim with different kinds of prawns, lobsters and Moreton Bay Bugs. There’s a throng of people waiting to be served amidst countless employees running around scooping seafood, bagging them up, and shouting to tell the crowd that they’re ready to take the order of who’s waiting next.

I don’t even feel like it’s Christmas. I know it because the shopping plaza is now filled with people on a normally quiet Monday morning doing their Christmas Day grocery shopping; a last minute run to the shops to grab presents they’ve almost forgotten or now only had the time to do.

Consumerism is all around and that’s how I know it’s Christmas.

When I was growing up, I knew it was coming up to Christmas when malls start playing Christmas songs, lights are strewn all over the city, our house trimmed with green garlands, red poinsettias and twinkling lights. I would sit on the couch beside the tree and switch the toggle on the little black box to listen to the different tunes attached to it while staring at the lights dance.

Every day there would be a new baked delight in the fridge. A Goldilocks cake, a fruitcake wrapped neatly in plastic with a red bow, a sticker in the middle showing which family gifted it to us. There would be Christmas parties every weekend from all parts of our lives—church and my parents’ office, our official school Christmas party where everyone gets out of their blue and white uniforms and gets dressed up. There would be games and laughing, singing and gift giving. I would give out letters to my classmates, thanking them for their friendship. The church would have a full Christmas service where there would be a feast served at the grassy lawn. I’d see friends you’d usually see at camp all dressed up with their parents. We’d say hi and reconnect.

It felt freeing, to be rid of the responsibilities of the year. To be gifted time with loved ones. It felt happy. It truly felt like a celebration.

My parents and I at one of the many Christmas parties back in the 90s.

On Christmas Day, I would wake up and the kitchen would be in a delightful disarray. My mom making her traditional macaroni salad with big chunks of cheddar cheese—oh how I loved those! Our helpers milling about preparing pancit and fried chicken, Pinoy spaghetti and those hotdog and marshmallows on sticks. I would watch TV on the couch, show after show of Christmas themed stories. From time to time, we would suddenly hear singing outside our house—a group of kids singing Christmas Carols. I would get the coins ready. We’d listen to them and then we’d give them their reward, their smiles lighting their faces as they sing, “Thank you, thank you, ang babait ninyo (you all are kind), thank you!!”

There was a lot going on but it was delightful. In some ways, it is simple, but it was most treasured.

In Australia, I find that I have to make Christmas real. It’s a conscious effort now. There’s not a lot of Christmas lights here compared to Manila. You need to find the suburb that has them and normally, it’s not all of the houses. Back home, there were more houses with lights than those with none. Here, it’s the other way around. It seems like here, I have to find Christmas.

Sure there’s gift giving but it feels somewhat transactional. You need to because it’s the season to. Christmas parties are a gathering to eat and to chat. There are no silly parlor games where everyone, even the grandparents, will join and laugh their heads off in the process. There are no kids ringing your doorbell and you listening to them sing. We don’t have a lot of Christmas decor because we don’t have a lot of space in the apartment, and we want to save money.

Christmas feels different now.

As I grabbed the bag from the lady, jolting me from my reverie, she smiled at me and said, “Have a good day! Merry Christmas!”

I smiled. “You too! Merry Christmas!”

Jesus was born in a lowly manger, under the brightest star in the sky. He was born humbly yet people far and wide traveled to see Him. It was quiet and simple, but it was still a celebration.

I walked past the people, rushing to get back to the quiet comfort of the home I have made here. Christmas may look different now but I realise that we can, in our own way, recreate it. Recreate the feeling we had of home, of love, of a quiet and humble celebration.

Merry Christmas, everyone.

I wrote this two days before Christmas in 2024. Though a year ago, I still mostly feel the same except this year, we decided to exert more effort in making it feel like Christmas. We have a proper tree now, all adorned with lights and little Australian animals. We have stockings filled with treats and underneath the tree, presents for everyone. We set these all up on the first week of November to prolong the festive feeling, to somehow make it resemble like the Christmas in our memories. At night, I sometimes find myself sitting on the couch with just the Christmas lights on and staring at the lights dance, just like what I did when I was young. Christmas lights nowadays don’t come with the music so on these nights, I’d stare and imagine the tree singing back to me.