A Frank Sinatra Christmas.

My mom sent this to every family group, sharing Her merriment with you.

I slept really late last night, I sang few carols with some aunts, cousins and my via video call, and I think it was the second time I held back tears.

You see, I have never celebrated Christmas without my nuclear family which in itself is large, and my extended family which I call battalion.

My memories of Christmas have never been one of coziness, or silence.

It is an eccentric, boisterous, disconcerting and beautiful experience.

It was the only time I get to my parents, especially my dad as human; my father is suddenly much more, a son, a brother, a friend and a lively person.

He is not restrained to the timing of capitalistic desires, there’s no need to go to work, and come back knackered.

It is a reunion, and it is a familiar place.

I spent most Christmas as a spectator, in fact, I was a reluctant spectator too.

I hid behind reading, staying back home with my grandparents, listening to their favorite stories, and memories of a time where they were young adults to escape joining the battalion on their adventures through town ( I regret most of them now).

The first time I cried about the loneliness of first times, I told a friend how much I miss hearing the reverberations of a slammed door.

It was something familiar, a reminder of my time in owerri.

We the children never did learn to close the doors behind us quietly, it was a banging fest that poured into the adults too.

I hated it so much which was hypocritical because, I was an ardent door slammer.

Christmas morning entails the same ritual that I experienced for most of my life, it mimics a rush hour.

There’s a flurry of activities: people waiting to iron the clothes, the rush of perfecting details we procrastinated on, the impatient mumbling to remind every one of our aversion to arriving late for mass.

Christmas morning is a discordant experience, blocs of people chattering all at once, a stereo blaring, the rush to get everyone presentable and uniformed.

I hated it for so long, and somehow, it is so familiar to my mind that I miss it, I miss it so dearly.

The order of the day after mass consists of attending to visitors, sharing laughter, jokes, inevitable debates that escalate to shouting matches, it leaves one knackered but, my dad always had fried meat or chicken to give us after the sun sets, and the gate is closed.

We tend to spend the late nights and early morning talking about things that occurred, the happenings in church, and the occasional gossip with your cousin.

Sleeping is for the weak, and their chattering will find you in your dreams.

This year, I experienced a lot of firsts, I took it on bravely, some I will write of, some words cannot capture, and others that should be for my heart.

I took on most without stress, but for the past week, I have carried a melancholic longing, and it points back to missing the familiarity of what Christmas is to me.

The thing is, I am reluctant when it comes to socializing, even within my family.

So being surrounded by boisterous extroverts who are larger than life, I spent so many days praying for silence, I would carve spaces to persist in my own world and would balk at people actively participating in life.

“I can’t wait to be an adult, and spend Christmas alone”, I used to say.

I wish wasn’t in such hurry, I wanted the exact Christmas Frank Sinatra spoke of in his song, especially the quiet merry Christmas!

I wish I understood the privilege to be surrounded by the sound of home, family, of people who waited the whole year to be in each other’s presence again.

How lovely.

Let us come back to the present.

I woke up late this morning as I spent most of my night scrolling through status of my family members, watching throw fireworks together, the jab at my brother’s hairstyle, there’s always so much conversation happening all at once.

I miss it.

I am currently staying at my aunts house, just Her.

She’s been a rock for the month of December, but I think she also misses home, she keeps contemplating “should I travel or not?”, I understand Her.

We have each other, but we know how Christmas usually is.

I think I woke up by 9 am, I closed my eyes for a long time to avoid joining the extended family video call; I felt very melancholic.

Eventually, I came out. The chef and groundsman are merry, bright, and most of all, they insist I stay out for a while.

“You cannot hide inside on Christmas day”.

I stayed in the kitchen, gisting, laughing, and I eventually had breakfast.

I took few selfies, not the usual ones where I’m dressed up to commemorate the day.

It’s a silent dinning area, the place is so quiet, I heard the rustle of leaves and sound of nature.

I sit in the front, alone, and for the first time today, I feel joyful.

It dawns on me that, I am living an answered prayer, The one I spent years mumbling under my breath.

I am an adult, It’s a quiet Christmas afternoon, I am drinking an amazing drink, I got some wonderful calls, texts, cards, and vice versa.

A friend invited for an evening dinner, another invited for a movie, I had another suggested we have a fight club(an inside joke) , and though I am filled with love, and overjoyed at their inclusion, I give the same answer: “thank you my darling, can we raincheck and make it happen after Christmas?”

I am living my own “Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas”. I am living answered prayer right now for a version that craved this so deeply, what a joy, what a privilege!

My troubles, the melancholia of the past seems so minute, I am not riddled by the fear of tomorrow either.

I will not discount my longing for nostalgia, but the thing is, this very moment will tug my heart so fondly one day as it is in my present.

I shouldn’t be a prisoner to nostalgia at the expense of a present I can curate.

There’ll be many Christmases at home with my battalion, even many with more additions in the family.

It’s 5:53 right now, my other hand is oily from wrestling this grilled chicken, and my tummy is inflated from tackling the meal.

I almost choked from laughter as I’m partially chatting with my aunt, and the aunts on the video call on her phone.

I have to shower, though I am still debating whether to follow my aunt for an evening Christmas party.

I spoke to my mom, some siblings, my maternal grandparents, I have many more to speak to.

My heart is light, my mouth is tired of chewing, I need to hug my aunt, I feel loved, It feels good to enjoy an answered prayer.

Thank you Frank, I enjoyed my quiet, merry, ordinary, lovely, and pleasant Christmas.

I think I made you proud.

Merry Christmas to you all, the ones who are lonely, those surrounded by community, and to those experiencing a familiar or new Christmas.

Here is a playlist I created that captures what today feels like to me. here

Ka chi fo!