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𝐹𝑜𝑟 𝑚𝑒 𝑔𝑟𝑜𝑤𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑢𝑝, 𝐶𝒉𝑟𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑚𝑎𝑠 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑎𝑙𝑤𝑎𝑦𝑠 𝑗𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔. 𝑊𝑒 𝑎𝑙𝑤𝑎𝑦𝑠 𝒉𝑎𝑑 𝑡𝒉𝑒 𝑠𝑎𝑚𝑒 𝑠𝑡𝑜𝑐𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡𝒉𝑒 𝑠𝑎𝑚𝑒 𝑡𝑟𝑒𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡𝒉𝑒 𝑠𝑎𝑚𝑒 𝑑𝑒𝑐𝑜𝑟𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑤𝑒 𝑤𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑎𝑙𝑤𝑎𝑦𝑠 𝑑𝑒𝑐𝑜𝑟𝑎𝑡𝑒 𝑡𝒉𝑒 𝑤𝑒𝑒𝑘𝑒𝑛𝑑 𝑟𝑖𝑔𝒉𝑡 𝑎𝑓𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑇𝒉𝑎𝑛𝑘𝑠𝑔𝑖𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑔. 𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤, 𝑓𝑙𝑖𝑝 𝑡𝒉𝑒 𝐶𝒉𝑟𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑚𝑎𝑠 𝑠𝑤𝑖𝑡𝑐𝒉. – 𝑪𝒂𝒓𝒓𝒊𝒆 𝑼𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒘𝒐𝒐𝒅.

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Fun, joyful, filled with friends and family; that's what I remember Christmas to be.

The Christmas spirit rose with us early in the morning accompanying the foggy weather and cold harmattan. Church was next, we would sit for a few hours, sing hymns and thank God for the glorious season we'd entered.

Mid-afternoon, with children running about throwing 'knock-outs' and highlife music streaming and bouncing off the walls of the house, I stopped in my perambulation to appreciate the scent of the classic fried rice spreading throughout the house.

The gist and laughter, the extra spice, Christmas had always been a season of celebration and we nigerians definitely knew how to bring out the celebrate in celebration.

Few years down the line, the children thrilled by the loud 'bangas' were now adults, the adults running around making sure everyone had more food than their stomach could accommodate were now aged, and Christmas was quiet. It'd slowly morphed to a time to find your inner joy and shift your focus from the outside life.

Right now, I was miles away from my hometown with the weather reading -45° Celsius. Clothed in my favorite hoodie and stuffed in a thick blanket, reminiscing the events of this morning.

In place of church service this morning, we had a family video call. Christmas was still Christmas to everyone. Prayers were shared, I could see the joy on their faces and that was all that mattered.
It was-

Koin.

A loud sound similar to a pan striking a steel surface resonated through the house, cutting me off from my imaginary journey; and reminding me in yet another way, that I wasn't home with family.
All my friends were on trips with their families and I wasn't expecting anyone, at least not until four pm. With my heart in my hand and my stiletto in the other, I made my way downstairs.

The sitting room was illuminated as I put on the light; no one. I was sure I heard a sound. Reluctantly, I turned to go back up the stairs.

"Surprise, surprise," a familiar voice called out from behind me in a sing-song voice; my weapon of destruction fell from my hands and my knees joined in, fear crippling me.

Before I hit the ground, a firm hand held onto me from behind and pulled me up. I turned around and screamed, but not out of fear.

"Jayyyyyyyyyy!"

The joy and excitement of seeing my husband that had been on an impromptu trip to Japan that had collided with Christmas-perks of work-left me elated.

"Ho-w did you? How c-ome...?" I rapped in excitement.

"It's my special surprise for you." He kissed my cheek, and swept me off my feet, carrying me bridal style up the spiral wooden stairs.

"How did you come in?" I inquired, giggling as he kissed my nose.

"Santa style, through the chimney." His chuckle sent shivers down my spine.

I gasped in shock. "You're not serious."

"Of course I am, how else do you think I came in?" he asked, pinching my now flushed cheeks.

Tears blurred my vision, but I wouldn't let them drop.

"This is the best Christmas gift ever." I smiled, hoping those little words could convey my deep-seated gratitude and admiration.

He hugged me in return.

We spent the rest of the day and night in each others' arms, listening to Christmas carols and hymns.

This was what Christmas was about.

Love.

In its truest form.

© Feranmi .E. Israel.
Feran_meee