Lost Christmas
by: Lois Emma Ewuraesi Taylor
A 21-year-old creative who writes sometimes as a form of self expression. Their proses, often inspired by songs, are like journal entries reaching out to hit home in the reader's heart and mind
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Growing up, Christmas Eve was the night I stayed awake. I could sleep soundly on December 31st and before my birthday, but not on Christmas Eve. The smell of jollof, chicken, and freshly baked cakes, along with Christmas carols on the radio, made it impossible to sleep.
My family preferred to prepare the house for Christmas the day before, which often kept us awake due to excitement. As children, we’d join in decorating, with me helping my mom and aunties, sneaking cookies and icing when they weren’t looking. My mom would usually send
me out of the kitchen before I finished everything.
Afterwards, I’d sit with my cousins in the living room, listening to my grandparents tell the story of Christmas and reminisce about ‘the good old days’. Once the tree was set up, the star was handed to the chosen child to place on top of it.
I remember being that child and how my dad would lift me to reach the top of the tree to put on the star, then step back to admire it. On
Christmas morning, we’d sleep through the day and attend church services in the afternoon.
But now, Christmas has lost its magic. I no longer feel excited seeing Christmas trees and lights, and Christmas carols have been replaced by secular songs that fade when their popularity wanes.
As adults, my generation has played a role in diminishing the Christmas spirit. I’m not exactly sure what changed; perhaps it was the busyness or a sense of disillusionment.
I recall growing weary of decorating my home as my family once did and opting for store-bought cookies over homemade snacks. My job promotion also became a source of stress, leaving me so drained that I lacked the energy or focus to enjoy Christmas, which led to my
disinterest in the holiday. Or maybe the first instance was during my university days, when I stopped going home for
Christmas to attend parties with my friends. It was at one of these parties where I met Christopher, and two years later, we got married. I had two adorable kids whose only major flaw is their unhealthy attachment to electronic devices.
“Mom, check this out,” my eldest, Nora, said before shoving her phone, and I obliged to see a video of a school child trying to escape from class but getting caught.
A smile appeared on my face, but it didn’t get rid of the developing guilt at how I had not been able to pass down the magic of Christmas.
“Why don’t we make cookies from scratch this Christmas?” I said, and my family looked at me like I had grown two heads.
“But we already bought cookies,” my son, Martin, said before picking up the cookies I had placed in the basket minutes ago.
I had already failed even before I started.
“Are you doing anything during the Christmas service?” I asked, but then my family gave me that weird look again, and it was not encouraging.
“That came out of nowhere. We have never done anything during the Christmas service,” Nora said, and that’s when my brain reminded me of the times I dragged my children out when their Sunday school teachers wanted them to stay and rehearse for the Christmas
programmes.
Yes, I was the villain of my own story.
"What do you want for Christmas?" I tried once more, and my family looked dumbfounded.
"Nothing, really" Nora said, edging away from me like I was contagious.
"I'm good too" Martin added, and it felt like cold water had been splashed on my face.
"That's because your mom and I buy you everything you need, and you should show some gratitude", Christopher interjected, coming to my rescue, and I smiled weakly in agreement.
"Yeah, whatever. We're grateful. But are we finished? I need to finish watching a movie before my friends do, or they'll ruin it for me", Nora complained.
These moments made me deeply worried about the kind of teenager she would become if she behaved like this at age ten.
"Go save our spot in the queue. We'll be there soon", Christopher said, and the children rushed off.
I let out a long sigh.
"What's wrong?", he asked.
"I miss Christmas", I said, and as usual with men, he looked clueless about what I meant. "I mean, I miss the happiness, the songs, the anticipation, the tree lighting. Christmas used to be magical, but now it's just... empty. And I hate every second of it"
"Okay, well, I think it's just nostalgia. You're remembering it better than it actually was. Christmas has always been like this. It hasn't changed", Christopher said with a smile.
I smiled back elegantly before shifting my expression to my finest death stare.
"Darling, relax. We can send the kids to my parents, and then it'll just be you and me this Christmas", he tried to appease me, but that wasn't the solution.
"But what difference will it make since Christmas has always been the same", I spat back before storming away.
*****
“Come on, you are right. I’m sorry.” Christopher said, but I knew he was just saying that because it was one of the tips so-called marriage experts give for a happy marriage.
“What are you sorry about?” I shot back, and he was speechless.
It wasn’t that I wanted us to fight, but I needed him to be real for us to come up with a better solution.
“For everything,” he said, and I folded my arms to show that I was not buying it. “Fine, I don’t know why you are angry, but I don’t like it when you are angry.”
“I’m not. I've just realised that I have failed my kids by not passing down the beauty of Christmas I experienced growing up. There were family traditions my family has done for over a hundred years from generation to generation, and I killed it.”
"You're being too hard on yourself. Nobody does those traditions anymore", Christopher said, but I shook my head.
"They do, my cousins, visit their parents and keep the Christmas Eve traditions we grew up with alive. But here I am, the only child of my parents who rarely visits home because of my schedule. And who also fails to celebrate Christmas properly with her family."
"Okay, you need to take it easy. Didn't we visit your parents, the Saturday, when the kids came on vacation? And I don't understand the whole not celebrating Christmas correctly. We go to church on Christmas Day, and we spend time with them."
"You don't understand."
"Yes, I don't. You spent over two hours talking to one of your cousins, and you have been moody since, being nostalgic for your childhood Christmas."
"Why can't you try to understand? I just want the kids to have beautiful Christmas memories they can look back on. Maybe, my cousin, Araba, said something that made me reminisce, but that's not the main point."
"Fine, so today, we took the kids to the playground, then we took them shopping, and Nora is making popcorn with her brother for us to watch a movie with her. Years from now, I'm sure Nora is going to be just like you, complaining that these moments were the times when
Christmas was amazing. I understand where you are coming from, but I also feel like it doesn't matter what Christmas traditions we implement, but rather how present we are in all of them. Growing up, my family threw a white party every Christmas Eve, and my brother still does. But I loved those parties because they were the only times my parents remembered that they had children when the cameraman asked to take a family picture. I know your family is more close-knit than mine, but not every moment was perfect. So just like how I don't force us to attend my brother's white party or throw one ourselves for the few good moments, I don't think it's right for you to do the same." Christopher said, and I let out a sigh since he had a point.
I remembered the arguments and complaints about favouritism towards me every time I hung the star, and I also remembered how my grandparents were never satisfied with the way their daughters-in-law did anything. I remember the forced smiles and tiredness in my mother's eyes and the promise she forced me to make, never to be independent and marry a mummy's boy. I remembered how stuffy and fake it felt as a teenager, which was the reason I chose parties instead. I still missed my childhood, but it was wrong to delude myself that it was perfect.
"Mummy, daddy, the popcorn is ready. Hurry up before Martin eats all of it", Nora popped her head through the door and said before disappearing as fast as she had popped in.
"We're are coming", Christopher said before patting my shoulder and getting up, stretching his hand toward me.
I let out a sigh and took it, getting up to my feet as he wrapped his hand around my waist.
"But next year, let's try to get the kids involved in the church's Christmas programme."
"That's a problem for next year", he said as we walked out of the room and into the living room where the kids had already started the movie with the popcorn, cookies and drinks on the table.
Cookies weren't homemade, but they still felt great as we unanimously laughed at the shenanigans of the movie characters and tried to predict the movie ending.
There was no Christmas tree to be decorated or star to be hung, but being present here with my family made me realise that Christmas does not die because it fails to keep a tradition, but rather by being present to pass down the joy of the season from generation to generation.
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