The season to be… rushing

FACEBOOK PHOTO

MANILA, Philippines – It has come down to this.

As I write, it is December 23, two days before Christmas. My little family is fast asleep (including the newest member, an 11-week-old Shih Tzu puppy we named Lily). I’m sitting at the kitchen table looking at my Christmas paper still rolled, greeting cards still boxed, gifts waiting to be wrapped. Whoever said, “If it weren’t for the last minute, nothing would get done,” was spot on.

However, I do have excuses… rather, reasons for waiting until the last possible second. With one concert after another, plus traveling, plus getting sick, plus writing, plus sleep (ooh, mustn’t forget that), there wasn’t much time to join the holiday rush.

Mental list

I always did (and still do) keep a mental list of which friend and relative would get what present (my voice doctor reminded me to not give him fruitcake). The shopping last Sunday afternoon, despite the packed mall, did not take forever; nor was it mentally or emotionally taxing on either Nic or myself. I knew what I wanted, got it and left.

Today, it looks like my afternoon will be spent hunkered over the kitchen table-turned-gift wrap station, with Nic and Lily keeping me company. Christmas music will be playing… the tree will be lit… and finally, my house will feel the holiday spirit.

Tomorrow, we will all head to our own version of Mecca: my mother’s home in Quezon City.

My mother is my exact opposite. Where I start getting into the swing of things late and hurriedly, she takes her sweet time, each shopping trip a possibility for a holiday present for those she loves—a scarf or a blouse, a purse or a wallet… Her three grandchildren are the biggest beneficiaries of her Christmas creativity.

When I was last at her house a few days ago, she showed me her presents already under her incredibly beautifully trimmed Christmas tree. She never waits for the last minute. She was very, very ready. To say she was excited would be an understatement.

She does give an interesting reason for her fervor: “I never had any of these growing up, and I don’t want my children (and now grandchildren) to be deprived.”

I’ll have to hand it to her; She did her best as we were growing up, despite the limited means.

Growing up in a hardscrabble existence, not knowing where her next tuition fee would come from, she turned out tough, tougher than I would ever know. (I am always thankful for her, even though I don’t always show it.)

Because of how much love she poured into the simple fare she would—hotdogs stuffed with cheese, then wrapped in bacon and baked in tomato sauce; potato salad with mayonnaise, beets and carrots; fruit salad with condensed milk and heavy cream; and steaming hot chocolate—it always felt like a feast to us.

We’ve come to expect the same dishes on Christmas Eve, before we open our presents. By about

1 a.m., the living room is a heap of crumpled paper and ribbons, empty boxes—and smiling faces, not to mention stomachs full from the noche  buena food. It’s Christmas, the way I’ve grown to love it.

It’s now past 1:30 a.m., and my day has come to an end. I am prepared for the battle to come. By Christmas Eve, my mission will be complete, and I will feel triumphant that I have conquered the rush. I know that, right this second, another human being somewhere is feeling like I do

Kindred spirits

To my fellow last-minute gift buyers, gift givers and those who take months to prepare for this most beautiful season… to everyone who celebrates simply or elaborately… to those celebrating despite losses in the family, or because of additions to it… to travelers enjoying the fallen snow or a sunny beach… to everyone who believes in the jolly white-bearded man in the red suit, and could swear that he or she heard the patter of reindeer on the roof, and those who can still see that one bright star that led three wise men to him, who would be the Greatest One to ever walk the earth…

To every single human being big and small, short and tall, young and old alike, a very Merry Christmas to you!