Christmas 2019

By Virginia Jasmin Pasalo

IT was the first Christmas that I did not buy much. The credit cards were unhappy. All throughout the year, I bought some things here and there, and found there was enough to distribute to my nephews and nieces. I only wrapped a few, and decided to give the “naked” gifts away. There was no more time to contemplate on the wrapping, as I was already in the kitchen, cooking adobo, pansit sotanghon and tinolang manok. Jam brought fried chicken.

My niece Jam and I were going to spend noche buena with my sister Emma at Filinvest. It was the most practical choice considering the distance from where we both lived, and also because it was close enough to the hospitals, in case my colds turn from bad to worse, or her asthma will be induced by allergy to some food. My sister Lydia was offering to pay for my cab to go to her house, as she always reduces my choices to my Ilocano-ness, and dismisses any sickness as an alibi since she attributes the state of my health as something near perfect.

It was 10:30 p.m. and Grab was telling us, there was no driver available. After 30 minutes of waiting for both Grab or taxi, we decided to walk to Malingap Street to try our luck. The street was eerily empty. At that point, my sister Che texted that if we are still home, Oni can pick us up, but that he will be arriving past midnight. Jam suggested that if we were not able to get a ride in the next couple of minutes, we are going to bring the food to her house and spend Christmas there, with loads of brewed coffee. Just as we laughed at this possibility, we were gifted with the apparition of a lone taxi.

We arrived at Emma’s house fifteen minutes before midnight. She prepared Pesto Crespo, her version of pasta, fruits, cakes and cookies. As we were hungry, we started eating, and played Christmas carols from the promotional album of the Choir of Christchurch Cathedral, Dublin on my nephew JC’s boom box. JC and Nico were still asleep. Then Emma announced, “It’s 12:05 a.m., it’s past Christmas!” Jam was busy in the kitchen trying to unclog the coffee brewer which yielded a whole grain of coffee along with some other impurities stuck at the base. She tried to brew after that, but I was sleepy, so I told her to call me when the coffee is ready, and joined Ashang in the room. She decided not to wake me up, knowing I needed to sleep. Jam left at 2:00 a.m., hoping to join us at 6:00 a.m. to visit Lydia, after we bring Ashang to the Manila Metro Rail Transit System (MRT) to get a ride to Manila Peninsula, where she works.

In the past, most of us spent Christmas at Lydia’s. Lydia’s house has always been the natural venue because she has the space, the food, the gifts and assorted items to be raffled. I would normally cook at least three dishes which were made of vegetables, fishes and some other recipe to complement the all-meat specialties of her husband, Decoroso.

We had fun. It is the first time no one mentioned the absence of Tatay and Nanay, who were the focal persons of past Christmases. It is the first time we did not mention the dead, after Tatay’s death in 2012, and Nanay’s passing in 2017. We have come to terms with the realities and lived our own pains. And yet, a day after all the fun, I wake up with a plaintive call from the window, and wondered if it were the partner of the bird that Tatay accidentally felled with a slingshot years ago. Is he still looking for his partner? Had he forgiven Tatay? Also, the kampupot from Nanay’s garden is reaching out for the sun, stems ready to be curled into a ball of flowers, the way she wanted it. I always laid them up to form overhead vines, causing irritation between us when she was alive. Had she forgiven me?

Some pains appear to go away, but they have an uncanny way of getting back.

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