Arbol de Navidad decorado con luces.
Fuente: https://artvee.com/
Christmas is approaching.
Lights and decorations fill the streets, the houses, the shop windows.
Christmas carols fill the air, and shopping malls are packed.
The festive atmosphere takes over the month of December.
But above all, children dream.
I confess that these days, those childhood dreams are my main motivation.
That’s why I hang the stockings on my fireplace, bring out my nativity scene with bears, my Nutcracker soldiers, my Rudolph, my elves.
I even dust off my “cuatro” to sing Venezuelan Christmas carols with them, like “El Burrito Sabanero” and “Si la Virgen fuera Andina…”
But I also confess that I celebrate another, much quieter Christmas.
I must say that both, the noisy and colorful one, and the intimate and silent one, intertwine, expand, and perhaps even beautify each other.
It is there, in that other inner corner, a poetic space perhaps, where I decorate my very personal Christmas tree.
Each ornament on its branches is a person who may not be here physically but continue being in glorious presence, a laugh, a tear, a memory.
At the foot of that tree, I place my gifts and I light a radiant star in my heart.
In that instant, the past and the present meet, and my entire dwelling shines, that refuge where love knows how to hide.
Thus, I enjoy each night of my silent Christmas celebrations, alongside my very dignified solitude.
Meanwhile, amidst the hustle and bustle, I prepare to celebrate my children’s dreams with joy, music, and our traditional “hallacas” (Venezuelan traditional Christmas dish).
And as is tradition, since ancient times, on December 25th, I will dance until to that classic of our Caracas Christmases, performed by the Billo Caracas Boys orchestra:
“Christmas is back, a yearly tradition, some go joyfully and others go weeping…”
I’m leaving you the link so we can practice.
