For many Filipinos, the holiday season is woven from memories of family, simple joys, and unique traditions. One writer shares a poignant recollection of a childhood Christmas symbol that, more than half a century later, continues to define the spirit of giving and the power of memory.
The Magical Tree and a Forbidden Treat
Growing up, chocolate was a rare luxury in the author's household. A mother's rule limited its consumption, making it an even more coveted delight. However, the Christmas season transformed this everyday restriction into something extraordinary. The centerpiece was a magical Christmas tree, meticulously decorated by the author's mother.
At its base, layers of cotton simulated snow. Upon this wintery scene, the mother would expertly arrange an assortment of chocolates—a dazzling display that felt like a dream come true for a child. This special tree was unveiled during a Sunday family gathering in the holiday season, when relatives from the father's side would visit. The author's paternal grandfather lived with them, making these reunions a cherished weekly event.
A Father's Longing and a Daughter's Parallel
The narrative draws a powerful parallel between the author's love for chocolate and her father's profound affection for bananas. The father, who was born and raised in Bohol, was sent to Cebu for high school to study Chinese. During those years, he would look longingly at bananas hanging in fruit stands, unable to afford them.
This early deprivation shaped his lifelong preference. Even after developing diabetes in his 90s—a condition attributed to a general love for sweets, not solely bananas—his fondness for the fruit remained. For the author, chocolates hold a similar emotional weight. They represent not just a childhood treat withheld, but the sweet, joyful, and magical world her mother created every Christmas.
Passing On the Sweetness of Memory
The tradition of that magical tree ended 55 years ago, when the author was just six years old, following the grandfather's passing and the subsequent halt of large family gatherings. Yet, its impact is everlasting. The chocolates themselves were ordinary—nothing expensive, imported, or artisan. Their power lay entirely in the context of love and celebration.
Today, the author carries this memory forward by intentionally including chocolate in every Christmas basket she prepares. It is a deliberate act to pass on that same feeling of sweetness and magic to others. While her taste has refined over time—she no longer craves all chocolate desserts, preferring simple bars and cookies reminiscent of her childhood—the emotional resonance remains potent.
Memory holds the power to evoke joy, pain, or longing, and this Christmas memory is a enduring source of happiness. Now an adult, no one stops her from eating chocolate, but the body imposes its own limits, turning it into a guilty pleasure and a continued luxury. Even a trip down the supermarket chocolate aisle is a negotiation between desire and restraint, a quiet testament to a mother's long-ago rule.
Ultimately, the story is a testament to how the simplest gestures can forge our happiest moments. It reminds us that the core of the Filipino Christmas spirit often resides not in extravagance, but in the heartfelt creation of joy for loved ones, a lesson the author now strives to share every holiday season.
