There's no moon tonight, just the sound of children's laughter in the streets and random explosions of fireworks. I can smell my aunt's roast chicken, uh, roasting downstairs. My cousins are whipping up a riot on the patio, making up a dance for the street party tonight.
The house is literally shining and bright, what with lights sprouting from every possible surface. Daddy's playing his old Christmas records; songs from many years ago that never fail to bring that fuzzy feeling back to me. My cats are sniffing the smoked bangus like they always [always] do, and my sister is chasing them away with her plastic water-gun, the one she got from the kid's party earlier. My hands are soiled from handling barbecue marinade and fruit salad, and the food set grandly on the table smell just as good as my apron.
The smaller kids gather around the tree, shaking and rattling the presents. The boxes sit neatly beneath the prickly green branches, but their happy silence is disturbed by the small, impatient hands. They're all in different shapes, wrapped in various, gaily colours: blue, red, green, gold.
People flock to the churches, holding candles and greeting each other. After services, they flurry around wishing each other well, hurrying to get the most essential Noche Buena fares -bibingka, puto, bico, chicharon- from the humble vendor's stalls. Everyone's hurrying to go home to their families, to celebrate the birth of Jesus. The colourful parols and fireworks light their way home...
It's Christmas.
Never forget the reason for the season: JESUS CHRIST.
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