I've always loved this time of the year: It's a time of gathering, feasting, and contemplating (for the year ahead).
Growing up, I'd always looked forward to Christmas (where I spent my childhood holidays at my godparents' place) followed by CNY -- I loved seeing how my mum would deck up our home with pussywillow, large bowls of Mandarin oranges and new cushion covers.
As a child, I loved Christmas. A few days before Dec 25, I'd go to my godparents' home which would be filled with all sorts of festive smells: The warm aroma of orange cake, the sweet scent of pineapple tarts and the buttery fragrance of Dutch biscuits, my personal favourite.
While I was at my godparents', my godpa would make me milo every night. I'd try to keep awake and savour every minute of being allowed to stay up past 11pm and to watch TV. It was every primary school kid's dream, growing up in the 80s.
A day or two before Christmas, I would hang around the backyard where my godma would prepare her usual year-end spreads: A huge pot of Eurasian curry that looks like orge food (it's green and it's called feng... made up of innards). She'd also slow cook Briyani and a variety of other curries.
I had my first sip of alcohol at nine, at my godparents' place during Christmas.
And then there was Chinese New Year in the Lee household.
Mrs Lee gets very worked up during CNY. She'd have to singlehandedly clean our home and put up decorations that had been reused since before I was born.
There was this creepy-looking figurine stickers -- one boy, one girl, both chubby with red, cherubic cheeks, each holding a scroll that depicted lucky Chinese greetings. The pair of stickers looked like they have a better sense of belonging in haunted mansions than our humble abode.
Mrs Lee loved pussywillow so there'd always be one huge pot in our front porch.
And then, there was the preparation of goodies that we kids were allowed to be involved: We'd be tasked with filling up mum's rotatable serving tray with peanuts, sweets, mini chocolates.
As we grew up, these traditions started to fade.
Take Christmas.
In the late 90s, my godpa died. Christmas wasn't quite the same without him. Along with his passing, the kids began to also miss Santa Claus. Yes, my godpa would bother dressing up as Father Christmas and make all the kids -- my siblings, my fellow godsiblings, my god-cousins -- giggle to no end.
But Christmas traditions continued after Godpa left.
It was only in 2018 when my godma died, that Christmas was no longer same for me.
That year, I was posted overseas to work. And by the time I returned to Singapore, I had not stepped foot into my godma's home, which was sold shortly after her death.
To be fair, my godsiblings had taken the liberty to carry on the tradition, by cooking and baking the same festive goodies at their home.
But it's no longer the same.
One of my godsiblings has since died. The other finally moved out of Singapore. The only godsibling I have left has her own family -- but she's always opened up her home to me during Christmas.
But since I came back to Singapore from my overseas posting, I'd begun spending Christmas with my partner J and his family.
For the last six years, I'd found a new tradition for Dec 25: I'd be at J's helping him prepare food where he'd host his immediate and extended family.
As I grow older, I reaslise that childhood traditions would eventually fade with time.
And so, a few years ago, I've decided to carry on these important traditions with my loved ones.
When I had my first apartment, I would host Christmas and whip up a feast for different groups of loved ones: Stanley the sex bunny and Carl the dense one, best girl friend Nisa and Terry, as well as J and his family.
I made it a point to cook feng, which I had learnt from my godma. It's the one tradition I hope to carry on. To feed my loved ones with familiar food I had loved as a child.
For New Year's Eve, sex bunny Stanley would open his house and all of us would gather to eat, drink, make merry and usher in the new year.
And for CNY, I'd set aside a day to cook for my family and loved ones, with recipes learned from the elders in my home.
As we grow older, some of the traditions of our childhood would inevitably disappear -- loved ones would pass on.
But as long as we make an effort to keep such practices -- that are important to us -- burning, we will always be able to carry that torch of tradition.
Have a merry Christmas and a happy new year ahead, dear reader.
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