Ghosts of Christmases Past
When my cousins called from the U.S. on Christmas Day, it brought back memories of the days we grew up looking forward to Christmas gifts and Santa, dreading dressing up and going to crowded churches, and running around without a care in the world.
I remember Lechon Baka slowly spinning on a spit, and having our storytelling and games interrupted by having to greet relatives who I'd remember for the occasion then forget for the rest of the year. I remember being offered alcohol that I'd avoid due to a promise to my paternal grandmother.
I remember occasionally hanging out in the Guard Room when celebrating at my maternal grandparents' place in Greenhills West, inhaling second-hand smoke and watching the guards play chess.
I miss them days.
Still there's room fer new memories. Plenty of room.