The house remains bare of anything Christmas.
The walls white with specks of dust and empty promises; cobwebs hanging in random corners with their own story to tell; the breeze mysteriously creeping indoors through half-opened jalousie windows. The air a little colder; the cold as defined by the Philippine weather; the cold not cold enough to make me want to wrap even a thin blanket around myself. And yet it is November. Or at least my calendar tells me so.
In my country, the Christmas season begins in September. The sunny tropics is unmindful of the magical transition from summer to fall in the western world; I can only take a peek of it through Facebook pictures and the blogs of those who get to bathe in those autumn leaves. Not even Halloween and Thanksgiving are part of the Filipino culture, although some are free to join the fun should they wish to do so; and All Saints’ Day isn’t even a time for celebration. All that we look forward to during these months is Christmas. But here we are in mid-November and my senses have not awakened from their August slumber.
Originally posted at http://www.teckler.com/en/Irenewrites/Sleeping-Through-November-173761