My family has never been big on Christmas; we do not have a decorated tree, we do not exchange presents, and Santa Claus was the guy from primary school who we get to take pictures with when we were small. Christmas has always been a holiday and generally involves my parents abducting us to church, bribed with food afterwards.

On Christmas Eve this year, I made it rather clear that I would not be joining them for church. What is the point in showing up merely once a year, I thought? Once is better than none, my dad argued. Look at it as an outing, my brother added. I gave in, and by 20h we were sitting nicely in the car driving to church.

The church was not the one that we normally went to when I was a small girl, before we moved. The smell however was the same; the church packed while the people solemn and quiet. The mass started and I turned my attention towards the children carrying crosses, candles, and flowers, followed by the group of pastors. The rituals of songs and conversational preaches were religiously performed. I followed blankly, a dutiful act of copying and herding, until I began feeling stupid for I have not understood the why of it all. I frowned and wondered whether someone might frown at me if I were to leave the young mass.

My dad suddenly turned and asked me with obvious silent signs to figure out the page that contains the text currently being sung. I flipped through the booklet, and my ultimate finding was followed by his slow singing that either joined or trailed the mass. He held the booklet towards me, hoping that I would participate and yet silent I remained.

I wanted to throw in a witty remark, or to ask whether they understand the rituals we were supposed to follow. However, seeing them joining and stumbling but continuously trying silenced me. This is their ritual, their way of seeking solace and finding meanings. Who am I to judge?

I didn't start singing, I didn't say a word when we were supposed to fill the void, I didn't have an epiphany on that sacred night. Instead, I sat there sandwiched between my dad on my left and my mom on my right throughout until the end. A slight nostalgia flirted with me, and we proceeded to supper at a sandwich place after we claimed my brothers who were sitting outside the church and stayed awake until midnight.

I hope you all had a wonderful Christmas, wherever you are and whoever you are with.