There is no Christmas tree this year at the San Pedro mothership. It is not because we have all stopped celebrating Christmas at my parents’ house. As a matter of fact, we still maintain something short of tradition: those staying in the city (or nearby) all come over on the evening of the 24th and stay till the wee hours of Christmas day to have Noche Buena with the whole family. Even though Christmas lights may still abound, there would be no tree. My mom had been in charge of that, a sole responsibility she had owned since we were kids. I remember that each year, there would be a different theme for our tree, and she was meticulous in almost everything; what lights to use, color of the balls, different set of stars to put, little Santas and angels to hang, and most of all, what size and design for the star of Bethlehem to place on top of her creation. (My best tree had been the one with only blue balls all around, and an angel on top, holding a star.) In the old days, we were her little helpers during the tree’s yearly set up at our apartment in Mabini, and then at our permanent residence in Bajada. We would do this either on the first or second week of December.
Then, when one by one we had families of our own and moved out of the “big” house, she had help from our youngest sister who had stayed behind, or whoever was available at the time. Even then, her supreme role of tree-keeper had not dimmed one bit, and no one had dared overthrow her. Through the years, with each Christmas made more merry by the coming of grandchildren, I complimented that it seemed we had a bigger tree each time. Mother had then quipped that the base should always be big enough to accommodate all the gifts for her apos. And so it was, for many more years. On the last Christmas before she passed away, mom had already been battling cancer. It was at this time she told me that she intended to put up the tree much earlier, in September, and that she wanted it to be filled with more lights.
Thinking back, that special tree of Christmas 2006 for me had been the best one ever and no other tree in the next years could come close. Those that came after had but lost a bit of luster somewhat. Putting one up every Christmastime after her passing had almost seemed like a no-themed, cut-and-paste chore and I clearly missed her knack for detail and her dedication. Last year at the big house, I saw the smallest Christmas tree you could imagine, with nary a light on it. I know each in our family have Christmas trees in their respective houses, and I like to fancy that perhaps mom had evenly dispersed and shared her tree-keeping passion with everyone, hence a bare mothership. At our own faraway house however, we’ve no tree. Instead, we have put decorations and lights on the front windows, with little gold and silver pine trees and stars, green leaves with tiny red apples woven with silver threads and bells on hued ribbons. As a final touch, we placed a Christmas wreath pinned to the front door. Our way of a simpler Christmas cheer but still at one with the mothership.
