christmas came to us by God's grace. that's what my dad said. we were all surely miserable christmas eve. i had spent the day lying on my bed, unable to go out because of the fumes coming from the paint and the varnish. i had woken up to my mother screaming at my door because of some unfixed stacks of paper (aka my cases) in the family room (which i have no idea why we call that since none of us really sits there) how can i possibly tidy up there when one whiff of the paint sends me into yet another coughing fit?
we had all agreed this year that media noche dinner would be spent at a hotel, either mandarin or shang for a change, since we were all too busy to cook and the house was in no condition to host a dinner of sorts, even if it was just the 4 of us.
my mother suddenly changes her mind about the hotel thing and decides we should eat at home instead. only half-a day before noche buena. my dad consoles me by saying he will buy all of our favorite takeout dishes (including roast duck and suckling pig, or s&r chicken and cake from hizon's) and simulate a cooked christmas dinner at home.
my parents arrived an hour before christmas mass 9pm (after spending the entire day at the hardware store and buying nothing but a fluorescent lamp), empty handed except for a small packet of birthday noodles and spareribs bought at the chinese resto right outside the subdivision. my mother is yelling at me to come down and set the table and for my brother to peel the potatoes because she is going to make nilaga (my dad's favorite christmas dish). and so we are all depressed at our christmas dinner prospects. birthday noodles and spareribs from the most ordinary chinese place in the world and 30-minute nilaga. i am grumpily taking out christmas placemats and my brother (bless his soul) is trying his best to cheer us up by making small talk. my dad is outside the house sitting on the steps and we are all sad and quiet. only my mom who is cooking nilaga is saying anything (as she is very pleased with herself for having turned us around and around the whole day with the changing of the plans, and even more pleased to realize that we are SAVING MONEY by not eating out at the hotel. when the time comes for us to leave for the mass, my dad says he no longer cares to change into his christmas clothes because he doesnt feel like it's christmas anyway. i try my best to look festive (though i feel like crap) and paint on my war face. we all leave for mass.
when we get to the church, we are all sad and despondent. there are no chairs available for us to sit together on, and that's just fine by all of us. i stand outside the church, and my dad stands even farther. my mom finds a chair alone. we don't talk or greet each other the entire time, not even for the peace-be-with-yous and i am decided that i will convert to some other religion (as christ did not come this year - how could he have when all this is happening?)
we do not even stay to greet the village friends and families. except for the melotos, which i tried my best to avoid. at our most dysfunctional family moment, i really did not care to see the filipino brady bunch nor discuss our pitiful christmas prospects with them.
we start with our christmas preparations. the nilaga is done, and though it was hastily prepared, turned out delicious. we transfered the chinese takeout into better serving platters, and my dad sliced excellente ham (the best kind) given by a client as well as the complimentary queso de bola. and we sit for christmas dinner. at first no one is talking, but the food is so good we can't help it. or maybe we are just hungry. even the fruitcake from the neighbor's house was extremely good. and so, even for the duration of the dinner, it felt a little bit like christmas.
christmas day was a little bit better. determined to spend it the way we had actually planned, my dad puts his foot down and tells us all we are going to makati shang for lunch. and it is fabulous, (how wonderful food is for making us talk to each other). i finally was able to eat turkey with gibblets and cranberry sauce AND stuffing, and all the desserts i could imagine.
another pretty prospect at this day was the cute guy flirting with me from across the table ( hihihi. it would be me without the cute guys would it?Ü)
in the afternoon, we all head home, and i spend the remainder of the day chatting with joanne, who decided to come over because of depression. we talk about old times, and look at old pictures of us in high school, and of us at my debut.
my friend zarah comes over a little bit later, and we just hang around as always. my day has already turned up, and it feels better, knowing christmas was spent with family and a couple of good friends.
and so, in my pretty room (WHICH, i fixed up myself during the day of the 24th), i decided i was going to pray to thank God for salvaging what was left of my christmas holiday.
No comments:
Post a Comment