But like other years, the joy of anticipation has always been the best for me because on the actual day itself, the climax has become anti-climactic.
Like a movie that's been over-hyped through promotion, Christmas Day's real story has been buried beneath the pile of unnecessary spiels.
To experience the true feel of Christmas, I always embark on a journey of the past Christmases of my childhood. Childhood memories, like the taste of one's first imported chocolate always feels authentic and real even after so many years.
I pine for the years when Christmas carollers were plain neighbourhood kids who didn't have to give advance notices to the residents just to serenade them. All they did was pull up their pants, pick up their musical instrument fashioned out of flattened soda caps and bravely but innocently belted out "namamasko ko po," message to the houses within their territory.
I long for the scent of "pinipig," (light rice flakes) and the Filipino hot chocolate drink, "cacao" from Batangas, laced with ground peanuts and drank straight from "espresso" little cups.
I especially wish for my mother who never failed to hang her freshly ironed window curtains and laid out her special China collection on the dinner table for the family's traditional Noche Buena and Media Noche meals.
My mother's Christmas Tree and Lantern had always kept the whole brood reminded even today of the Star of Bethlehem, the light that shone for the Birth of the Messiah - Our Saviour.
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