IT WAS shaping up to be a great Christmas. My end-of-term exam scores were excellent, and I had made it into the top five of the brightest kids in my class. Mom had called from the USA and was sending us clothes, toys and other niceties. What more could I ask for? The next day, we got word that my favourite aunt would be spending Christmas in Guyana. She was staying with us. Oh boy! I had only fond memories of Auntie Julie. She was young and fun to be with. Whenever she visited, we would go to movies, plays and other interesting places. What was more, we played many games, and losing became fun. She loved Bob Marley and Paul Keens Douglas, and so did I. She helped me with my homework, and I helped her with her chores whenever she was tired after work. We were friends.
Julie was nineteen and the youngest of my mother’s sisters. Mom had migrated to the USA three years earlier, and we had lived with Grandma and Auntie Julie for two years. Then she had followed my mom to the United States. Though I had felt sad at my mom’s departure, when Julie left it was a setback for me. My grades fell, and it took lots of encouragement and commitment to get back to my best.
This term’s good report was evidence of hard work and focus. I had made up my mind to do well and not mope any more. I knew I would see Julie some day. What a pleasant surprise the news of her coming was! My Christmas would be complete!
My sisters and I began the legendary pre-Christmas cleanup. I say ‘legendary’ because in my grandmother’s house, it was nothing short of that. As far back as I could remember, this activity had been an inseparable part of this holiday season. Every corner of the house had to be swept, mopped, scrubbed and scoured and cobwebbed. The entire exercise took about two to three weeks, depending on the amount of manpower available. When it was completed, the house would be sparkling clean and fresh. All the furniture would be packed into a corner in order to facilitate this exercise.
Grandma, meanwhile, had begun preparing homemade wines, cakes and other goodies for which she was famous and adored. As usual, food would be in abundance: Garlic Pork, Pepperpot, Mauby and other delicacies had been catered for in the Christmas shopping. We had only to wait for the grand day.
Mother’s barrel arrived a week before Christmas, and the excitement in the house was palpable. As we put up decorations and did last minute polishing, we were hopelessly distracted by the gifts sitting under the Christmas tree. I felt that this year’s Christmas was really taking its time. And a long time at that!
The T.V. announced that it was snowing heavily in North America. A message from Auntie Julie confirmed this. Her flight had been cancelled, and she would get here as soon as she could. Hopefully, it would be in time for Christmas.
My mood slowly changed. I had been happy for the last couple of weeks; now I felt anxious and sad. The weather in Guyana seemed to share my pessimism. Rain began to pour. I knew that even with the gifts, I would not be happy unless my aunt arrived for the holidays. That night, I prayed that I would have a perfect Christmas. And that night I slept unusually sound.
The days crept along, and my mood kept pace. I checked and rechecked with grandma for news from Auntie Julie, and got a negative response for each enquiry. The rain kept up its intensity, and I lost all hope of ever having a Merry Christmas.
Christmas Eve kept everyone busy. The bustle of last-minute shopping, baking and cooking  made me forget about everything else. I was so engrossed in the activities that when someone suddenly grabbed me, I almost jumped out of my skin. Auntie Julie had arrived at last! Our screams of joy and excitement could have been heard in the next street. At that moment, I began my celebration.
Christmas Eve mass at the Brickdam Cathedral seemed longer than usual, and I was anxious for it to end. The Bishop spoke about the coming of the Saviour. I felt I knew just what he was talking about. The Cathedral was packed with worshippers, and hot, despite the showers. After Mass, we hurried home to open the presents which had multiplied, due to the arrival of Auntie Julie.
Christmas Day was a blast! Presents, lots to eat, games with my sisters, and visiting friends, spending time with my aunt and grandmother… wow! I felt contented, happy and blessed! God had answered my prayer! He knew what I needed and had helped out. I silently thanked him for giving me a marvelous holiday. Next year, I would put Him to work on a perfect one.
The doorbell rang, and I dashed off to answer it, my mood buoyant. As I swung the door open, my mouth fell open in shock. Tears flooded my vision, and I stood gasping at the miracle before me: Mom! Thank you God! You are a year ahead of me!