My family and I are making such a huge deal of Christmas this year.
My family and I are making such a huge deal of Christmas this year. Cooking a larger variety of stuff, inviting single young friends over for the family feel, setting up lights, (here's the big thing) we actually have a Christmas tree! This is super exciting.
However, in getting all these done, there's an unmistakable sense of urgency that borders on desperation to "have" this Christmas. I will explain this.
My reasoning
We've all grown up so quickly and you'll agree with me that adulthood hit us so unexpectedly. One day we are being driven to school and the next day we are answering query letters as to why we were ten minutes late to work. We've gotten so caught up trying to survive that we hardly are present in our own lives.
I once saw this little girl skipping in a lot of dust as she walked. My first instinct was to chide her, but on reconsidering this, I realized I was jealous of her. I wanted to skip and raise dust as I walked too. But I was just returning from work and my bones were sore.
So in my mind, I tell her to skip, to skip longer and harder, because the day will come when it's 5pm and she just wants to crawl into bed and cry, and skipping would be the farthest thing from her mind. So I think to myself, "who knew something as mundane as walking to the store could be so much fun?" Now I may have digressed a little, but please follow me.
When I was younger, we'd be taken to Christmas fairs that played the same song every year. One went thus: "if you wan be my friend, you go dey stop kuru kere movement". Loosely interpreted, this means "if we are gonna be friends, you'll have to stop pretending".
This year, I have lost a handful of friends, for several reasons: lack of communication, a sense of purpose and, well, kuru kere movement. With each loss a part of me disappears, and there's a vacuum to be filled. It is now left to the heart to find anything at all to fill this vacuum; family, other friends, a good bottle of wine or the intense preparation for Christmas.
As we continue the frenzy in preparation for Christmas, there's a sense of urgency and meaning in each move, each purchase, each lighting. We want it to be perfect. Because we recon that Christmas is the only time in the year that we may let ourselves be vulnerable: exuding the purest love, the depth of family, and sincerity of well-wishing.
We make the most unfortunate realizations: that we may have let life slip slowly from our fingertips and we have forgotten how to celebrate. So we are desperate to hold on to this moment of celebration, to input the tiniest of ideas, loathe to admit that the decor is a bit too busy, and secretly wishing it lasts more than 48hours.
We don't know when next we will all be gathered together as a complete family, our hearts cannot take another Christmas alone as single Igbo ladies with only a glass of Jameson to our names. So tonight, we prepare like our lives depend on it, because our lives depend on it.
Enjoying now
Nonetheless, I revel in the realization that this is my opportunity to be present in my life. Adulthood will happen, but I will enjoy each moment of celebration, of laughter, of togetherness. Because if we could string as many moments of joy as closely together as possible, we would see that it does get better.
So I am thankful for Christmas, because it gives me an excuse to leave work, to be with my family, to skip in the one place I can call home, to call up my friends and watch their eyes mirror all my fears, to drink with them, enjoying this moment of invincibility.
The next year can come with a thousand reasons not to celebrate, but this moment is mine, so I will slow down (like Lagos traffic), and I will own it.
Written by Ezinne Onyeka.
Ezinne Onyeka is a writer and Risk Consultant. She is passionate about human development and welfare as well as emotional intelligence and mental wellbeing in young people.