Before I share how we recently celebrated Christmas — the very first Christmas celebration I personally supported — let me first take you back to how special every occasion felt during my childhood, especially Christmas.
Back in my teenage years, every Christmas vacation meant one thing: going to the province.
Every holiday season, our parents would send us there, and it was always the highlight of my year. The moment vacation started, excitement would already fill the air because we knew we were about to trade city routines for days of freedom in the province. It meant waking up early not because we had to, but because there was too much fun waiting outside.
Being there with our cousins made everything unforgettable. We spent our days running through open fields, climbing trees, playing games until sunset, and laughing over the smallest things. Even ordinary moments somehow became adventures — whether it was fetching water together, sneaking extra snacks from the kitchen, or racing each other down dusty paths. No gadgets, no schedules, just pure childhood happiness.
Looking back, I realize the province became our training ground for learning responsibility at a young age — but in the most enjoyable way. It never felt like hard work because we were always doing things together. For Lola, there was always a clear division of labor: one person washed the dishes, another fetched water, someone prepared the ingredients, while others cleaned the surroundings. Then there was the privileged one, who was never expected to help with the chores.
The chores were divided according to gender: the girls were assigned indoor tasks, while the boys handled outdoor work, like fetching water. But being naturally adventurous, I often joined the boys on their trips to fetch water, partly because it gave me the chance to wander around freely and escape Lola’s constant commands😅. Instead of feeling like responsibilities, chores became playful activities whenever we did things together.
Back then, Christmas season truly felt like the best time for family gatherings.
I remember how every special occasion throughout the year — summer vacations, the fiestas in May, Lolo’s birthday every 20th of August, Lola’s birthday on the 14th of November, Halloween, Christmas, and New Year’s Eve — always revolved around one unspoken family tradition: if you were able to come, you had to be at our grandparents’ house to celebrate together. It did not matter how busy everyone was or how far relatives had traveled from; somehow, everyone would find their way back home.
My Lola loved cooking, though none of us seemed to inherit her skills. She prepared almost everything from scratch, and for days the house would be filled with the rich aroma of home-cooked meals, native delicacies, and the constant liveliness of a busy kitchen.
She made suman, torta, bingka, banana balls, and many more traditional delicacies that instantly made Christmas feel complete. She also prepared side dishes and homemade pickles like atsara — that delicious sweet-and-sour grated unripe papaya — along with several other dishes that honestly tasted even better because they were made with love. We usually arrived two days earlier because our parents expected us to take part in the preparations.
But honestly, one of the most exciting parts of the entire experience was the journey itself from the city to the province.
My Lola’s house was located in a secluded area where only motorcycles could access directly. Otherwise, you had no choice but to walk for around 30 to 45 minutes from the barangay road.
And what a walk it was.
We would pass by two rivers and an elevated road that literally took your breath away once you reached the top. Imagine walking at night with your parents, aunties, uncles, or cousins while carrying flashlights or torches because the surroundings were completely pitch black. It sounds exhausting now, but back then? It felt like an adventure.
And somehow, those simple moments became some of my most unforgettable memories.
But as years passed and adulthood slowly happened to all of us, the yearly gathering slowly faded too.
Time changed.
Dreams became priorities.
Work became demanding.
Some chose responsibilities over celebrations.
And guilty as charged — I became one of those people too.
Working in the call center industry meant operating 24/7, even during major holidays like Christmas. Everybody wanted to file leave, but only a few requests were approved, and unfortunately, I was rarely part of that “few.”
So slowly, traditions changed.
And eventually, life changed too.
Today, both of my grandparents are already gone. I also lost three uncles and two cousins. With every loss, the gatherings became quieter, smaller, and different from what they used to be.
Sometimes, all I can really do now is reminisce.
But despite everything, I can proudly say that I had an almost perfect childhood — one filled with simple joys, meaningful traditions, and memories that shaped who I am today. It wasn’t perfect in the sense of being free from rules, chores, or expectations, but it was perfect in the way it mattered most.
And I truly believe that the tradition our parents started—coming together every Christmas, sharing time as a family, and keeping everyone close—helped strengthen our family bonds in a lasting way, especially among us cousins. What began as a yearly gathering slowly turned into a foundation of closeness and familiarity that we still carry today.
Thankfully, that same sense of connection didn’t stop with our generation; we’ve also managed to pass it on to our nieces and nephews, who now get to experience the same warmth, togetherness, and joy that shaped our own childhood. Now, we try our best to build the same kind of connection for them and with them. We want them to continue this tradition someday and hopefully pass it on to future generations as well.
Those babies in the photos—you’ll see how they’ve grown in my next article (A Chaotic Christmas). They are now nearly the same age we were when we first began experiencing those yearly gatherings ourselves.
So there it is — a small glimpse of what Christmas used to be like for us. Now, I find myself hoping to experience it all over again: the tradition, the beautiful chaos, and the memories our grandparents once created for us. I want to relive those moments with everyone together, especially with our nieces and nephews, so they can truly see how lucky they are to be part of this family.
P.S. I didn’t expect Novellino to steal the spotlight as a photoshoot prop 😅
