This one's a sad story and very much a personal one.
When I was a kid, I became acutely aware of just how we struggled financially as a family. Sure, there was enough for daily sustenance and my parents managed to make ends meet, but there was no room for anything else. I realised this when I, along with my younger brother, became friends with some neighbourhood kids. Of special note were three kids who were very much well-off; they owned a department store along Session Road! It was through them that I was introduced to Lego. Those awesome, colourful bricks that you can build whatever you want; your imagination is the limit. I was amazed at how they could use two car doors and some small bricks to build a nimble spaceship. Star Wars, Transformers and space-themed shows were all over place in the 80s and we would build moon bases and explore. I thoroughly relished every opportunity to play Lego at their place.
One Christmas time, I wanted Lego so much that I kept asking Nanay if she can buy me one. Even the smallest set will be fine. She asked me to write to Santa instead. I remember vividly how I folded a letter size bond paper into two and meticulously drew a Christmas tree with gifts underneath, then wrote to Santa, with all my heart, that I had been a good kid and all I wanted as a Lego set. Even the smallest set will make me happiest kid; I knew it was my only hope at owning one. Then I placed my card by the tree come Christmas evening.
The next morning I rushed to the tree, excited to find my wish fulfilled. Instead I found a red, plastic Volkswagen and a handwritten note in my card. Santa said he'd run out of Lego and has given me the car instead. I was disheartened, but something also dawned on me. I recognised the handwriting; it was my Nanay's. It was a double whammy for me. I did not get Lego, and I discovered the truth behind the magic of where the special gifts and sweets in our homemade stockings come from.
As a child I was obviously disappointed but somehow forgot all about it as the years went by. Inadvertently, this memory resurfaced when my Nanay passed away. I felt much sadness at how my parents must have tried to make each Christmas the best ever with what little resources we had, and I cannot imagine how my Nanay must have felt that one Christmas morning when she was not able to give what I wanted.
Since then, it's been a very difficult time for me during Christmastime. We still put up decorations for the kids, but I have gradually stopped playing Christmas songs altogether :-(.
Last year, my friends initiated a secret Santa gift swap. I listed four things my secret Santa can choose from. I managed to get two gifts, one of which is extra special to me: a small Lego set.
Last week, when most of the holiday busyness has subsided, I sat in quite contemplation with a cup of coffee and my special gift. Brick by brick, I slowly built my ship.
A wave of nostalgia filled me; flashbacks of her busily cooking in the kitchen while I occasionally snuck in for taste tests, watched TV specials, with our record player blaring Christmas songs, and the anticipation of a noche buena feast.
I'll add a string to this and place it on the tree next year.
