There are just some of those days when you try really hard to make all things feel ordinary. But no matter where you go, the world never fades with glee.
And it doesn’t help that amidst the bizarre beauty of the day, you find yourself alone to seize it because everyone is pre-occupied with their individual happiness, or spending it with the joy of their lives.
So since the world is happy but never notices you, you go back to this one quiet room and sleep. You sleep and dream.
You dream of Happiness. Your dream feigned Happiness.
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This is the second time I am not going home for Christmas. Yes, it is sad but there is always that getting-used-to-it part to console me.
The first time was five Christmases ago. It was also the first Christmas my father would not be spending with us because he spent it with the angels in heaven. And since then, Christmas has lost its meaning in me, that particular definition of Christmas when family gathers and the house is full of rambunctious kids all-over. Because it is my fact, and there is no consolation, that my family will never be complete again.
And true enough, even if I come home this year, one of my brothers will not be with us anyway. So technically, we are not complete. And besides, we are all grown-ups already, so there will be no rambunctious kids all-over.
But Christmas such as this is one that I will never forget for a long time. When the whole world has their reasons for celebrating the Season with their family, I, on the other hand contemplate on my personal struggle to at least match the happiness of my vicinity. After the whole experience, I am able to know myself more and the things that make me happy, even just for the moment.
It doesn’t help that I was once a Christmas person. That is because I had the best childhood Christmas memories to remember. I was the one who builds the Christmas tree at home and wraps gifts for everyone. When I was ten, I had the record of buying gifts for everyone at home, even those who were not on my lists like my mom’s inaanak who visited without notice on Christmas day. I was also the one who has control at the menu for the Noche Buena and the kind of firecrackers to buy for the New Year.
The bottom line of all of this is the fact that Christmas is just for the kids in us, or more personal way of saying it— for the kid in me. But I am afraid that I have lost that cute child inside of me who loves Christmases and builds Christmas trees and wraps gifts. The mere reason now why I love Christmas is because it is cold and I can sleep until noon without the discomfort of a tropical country and that the skies are blue.
So what exactly makes me temporarily happy this Christmas?
It is that little joy of knowing I am alive to celebrate it, although very alone and the fact that I have more reasons now to not to end-up alone celebrating Christmases later in life.
To be with someone like you is ambitious. You are a day-dream.
I dream of spending a day with you, out in the park under a canopy of a cool tree, with dirty ice cream biting our lips which smile with glee. Let’s take photos of one another, make stupid funny faces at each other until we stop using words but only know of happiness and laughter.
I will bring my guitar and I will sing your favorite song endlessly whether you like it or not, or until you fall asleep on my shoulder. I will not move any of my muscles so that I won’t wake you up because your face that peacefully sleeps is the most scenic view in my world. And let’s hope it wouldn’t rain because you love blue skies, too.
If I can only have a day in the hundred of your days, then I can truly say that yes, I was happy.
20 something, quarter-life crisis, loss of love, name it, nothing's weird.
