Several layers of fabric covered my body to combat the frosty breeze. But my poor cheeks were not prepared. My numbed hands tried to find warmth inside my pocket. I hurried my steps along the high street hoping to grab some food to cook for a fancy dinner but it was too late. The store has closed.

I looked around and noticed the barely few people on the road. Then my eyes gazed on the trees that used to be green but have now turned bare and withered. The town was quiet as I walked home.

At first it felt a little bizarre. There was not much food on the dining table. There are neither family members nor little children playing around. There was not even music to break the stillness of the night. It was nothing close to what I was accustomed to on a New Year’s Eve. All I had is an uncomplicatedly relaxing home that was restored to its good shape after tremendous effort of cleaning up.

I found a sense of pleasure in vacuuming the tiny unwanted bits in the carpet and scrubbing the bathroom to turn spic and span. I experienced relief as I unpacked my huge suitcase and organized the rummaged closet. When everything else appeared pleasing to sight, I knew it was time to rest in my bed and indulge in the comfort of the fleece blanket.

Not a single sparkle showed up as I peeked through my glass window. Outside, the darkness of the sky lingered with the freezing gust of the wind. My mind drew vivid portraits of spectacular fireworks and merry-making in the nearby city. It was tempting but I opted to be alone.

I had a feeling that I was breaking customs for what is supposed to be a special day. But it does not matter anymore. It does not matter what I do or what I have. That night, it does not even matter where I am. It is about allowing myself to freely immerse in whatever circumstance I am in regardless of what the rest of the people in the world do. I believe that there are no standards of happiness. There are no stringent rules to follow.

I have learned to accept things as they are.

I no longer yearn for things that I know have a remote likelihood of happening. While there were times when I wish I have taken more risks and poured out the struggling emotions from within, my mind always holds back whispering to keep away from complexity. Those were the moments when I envied the mannequin for its numbness. But on second thought, it is good to realize that I am able to feel the wound. I am not numb as I assumed I was. Yet still in silence, the heart sets its hope on the healing that only time can bring.

Then the days would go on like they did before. With simple dreams. And simple hopes. Some memories remain as mere events of the past. Some are worth reminiscing. Those treasured moments may not happen again. Maybe by chance, they would. It might take a sprinkling of luck. Or maybe, just maybe, things could happen when I finally learn to shatter the fear that freezes everything and let go of the suppressed words with all sincerity.

Maybe not now. All I wish to do is to recollect the memories of the drifted days that never seem to differ from this very moment.

I remember the night before Christmas. I was on the backseat of a cab travelling on a quiet town near a lake. Along the journey, the melody of the Silent Night was played in the air in German lyrics. It carried the same magnificent tune so beautifully sung that left me reflecting with almost misty eyes.

This is what I call a life that is my own. My best days could be with the company of amusing and caring people I have just met. It could be the time spent with my family and the people I value most. And it could also be when I am left alone with the silent blow of the wind. I do not always seek joyous laughter. Sometimes, all my soul aspires is to find inner peace.

* * *

02 January 2008. Leslie E. Vicente.