Christmas Day In The Metro

It’s something I’m not used to anymore, given that for the past several years the Family McVie would troop to either Bohol or Baguio to spend the holidays there. Still, it’s a welcome change. Whenever we’d go to Bohol it’ll just be my mom and aunt plus the unmarried ones. My two married brothers have their wives and children to think about—and to shoulder their airfare. Meanwhile the unmarried ones can pay for our mom’s plane ticket. So we end up physically apart as a family.

But this year since everyone’s in the metro, we’ll be spending Christmas lunch together. And that is something to be thankful for.

(Our Christmas tree at home.)

(I chose and bought the parol that now brightens up our garage at night.)

Tonight I’ll spend it sleeping on my old bed in my old room, clutching my old pillow. My mom and sister will be in the room beside mine, while my brother will be in his room across the hall.

*My mom’s pride and joy, our belen. It occupies a big part of the living room. My mom loves to make it sprawling, with toy animals and other figurines included in it. It’s kitschy stuff, but it’s home.)

There’s something to be said about people and places that anchor you. For me, it’s my family and our house in Marikina—and recently, my mom’s ancestral house in Bohol. Friends will come and go, but family stays until death do you part. As for the houses, they are spaces of comfort for me; pockets of memories lie in all nooks and corners.

(Tonight I noticed that my mom and I both have similar reading glasses.)

May we all be anchored in this season of hope and joy!