Some people have this curious habit with gifts. They keep their most favorite of the gifts they get without taking them out of their original boxes; wrappings, ribbons and cards intact. I can explain this quirk, myself being one of those who practice it.
It gives you a nice feeling to have wrapped presents around. It brings excitement and some element of surprise, even if you already know what those boxes contain. You feel dearly remembered, that someone cares about you.
Being given a gift can boost our sense of self-worth. It means we have been worthy of someone's good regards. Not to mention that a gift can have practical value too, of course. Most gift givers go to great lengths to find things that are very useful to their intended recipients.
The nice barong cloth that Tita Beling Go gave me last year remained in its box until late last month, when I finally decided to bring it to the tailor. It was a special gift that I thought called for an equally special occasion to be used in. I didn't mind waiting for a long time.
The fabric was so soft and smooth that it cuddled your hand when you held it. A line of fine needlework traversed the lustrous breadth of faint blue, making an elegant accent at the front of the final piece. I wore it straight from the tailor to a lunch meeting with film industry executives.
The bottle of wine from Sir Dodong and Maam Nena Gullas still stands in my kitchen shelf. I figure out that the sight of it just standing there is probably just as great as its actual taste. Besides, they say that wine gets better with age.
Various knickknacks fill up a trunk at a corner in my small living room. It's eating up much of the limited space. It's safe to guess that more than half of the contents are items I got from many Christmases past, from generous givers whose names I can no longer remember.
But among the old Christmas gifts I've been keeping, one stands out. It's the one I discovered the other day while I was cleaning the refrigerator. It seems to be telling me something, something rather disturbing.
A tiny portion of ham - maybe about a quarter kilo - lay hard frozen at the deep end of the freezer. This was apparently leftover from a sizeable whole. It was so covered with ice that you wouldn't notice it was there if you didn't dig in.
I have no recollection of the thing whatsoever, how it got there, although of course I must be the one who placed it there since I'm alone in the house. Maybe it was a special ham; maybe it was a gift from someone close to me; maybe I liked it so much that I set aside the remaining portion to enjoy it sometime later. Then maybe I just forgot about it.
I stared at the icy lump, haunted by thought of the waste. For sure I didn't need it as much as some kids in my neighborhood would have deserved it. Obviously I had already enjoyed much of it, while those hungry children might not have had tasted ham in their entire lives.
A heartwarming memory came to my mind. When, at one time, I gave little Tintoy a thin slice of leche flan, the poor boy's face glowed at the taste. For days he kept asking me questions about it: What's it called, what's it made of, who made it, where it's sold, how much it costs? Perhaps it was his way of making the delectable experience linger in his mind.
Every time he repeated those questions, Tintoy swore he would grow up to become a teacher. So he would have a salary, so he would have money to buy more "peste plan." It took so little to fire up the 5-year-old carpenter's child for the future.
Who knows what the leftover ham in my refrigerator could have done to another child had I let go of it sooner? Now, no one will ever know. The garbage bin is not talking.
Keeping old Christmas gifts - any gift, for that matter - doesn't look right. Givers expect their gifts to be enjoyed at once. It's the same with stashing away food; you'll often end up either having a cold meal or having to throw it away. Well, true, you may salvage stale food by reheating it, but it won't be as good anymore.
So this habit of mine has got to change. Perhaps starting with the bottle of wine from the good Gullas couple. Maybe I'll gather a few friends come Christmas Eve. Or, wait, maybe right tonight!
(E-MAIL: modequillo @gmail.com)