This Christmas I visited my hometown Cathedral that I had never been but always yearned for.
I remembered being driven to school on Mom’s motorbike, waiting every time to come across “the Cathedral of the Alley” ( how I called it myself ) just to say “Hello” to it though never knew exactly what’s happening inside. I sometimes whispered to it, secretly, all the secrets concurrently rambling through my head. And I did speak to it while desperately piling on the belief of having someone from above patiently listen to the subtle susurrations from my heart. Yes, it did become a part of my childhood, but also this part-of-my-childhood I never dared to come.
It has been nearly a year since they finished refurbishing the Cathedral. Before that, it took two and a haft year for them to take down the building, my building, and reconstruct it. My mom told me that she was more fond of the old Cathedral than the new one because of its antique architecture. I wouldn’t say a word, but to remind myself, I was writing down these lines: “The old Cathedral has Jesus standing on the top of it, with his arms wide open and his heart giggling at our every single hands-on gnomish esoterical narrations; and his eyes, they were so bright that I thought I was looking at a star – a blissful star made of stone and steel that has the warmest resonance of the entire universe.”
It was around 9 p.m. and the weather was chilly but the crowd had already gathered in front of the Cathedral, in the stores along the road, on the balcony, and finally, consumed the whole alley. I was so amazed and grateful as I came with my Mom and my brother, and the felicity clearly added up, thickened, and diffused on such a festive night.
There is no doubt that I had the best Christmas beside my beloved family but for a moment, I knew that I wanted to get back home ASAP as my heart was wandering back to someone not there with me. I took the pictures and longed to send them to him. I wanted to share with him this little joy and I wanted him to know that he was the first I thought about when it came to Christmas, with all the lights and thin smoke occupied the air. I think having him wishing me ” Merry Christmas” was the best part of the night, and I swear to have it carved in my later dreams, though right now it is not more than a mere flipping feather…
The Interior was spectacular and holly sacred. Light shone and pictures hung all around the four walls. Jesus seemed further away…
Getting back home, I made it concluded by drinking myself a giant mug ( my cowy mug ) of hot Cacao while enjoying an old Christmas Movie with my little brother, before slipping into my cozy, overly comfy bed and slept gently like a shallow, vibrant, noisy up-to-no-good girl – not even wish for a kiss from Mrs. Claus.
And a wish for a very much Happy Birthday to you
Mr. Jesus
Bellowing Stars 
Reblogged this on Slightly foxed and commented:
It’s been a year. I still remember the night I wrote down these words.
Many things have changed since then, except the fact that, I am still that seventeen girl, who hates fervently, and who loves wholeheartedly.
ThíchThích