When people talk about how Christmas doesn't feel like it anymore, I am surprised. My surprise doesn't come from an "I don't agree with them" angle. It comes from not knowing what Christmas should feel like. It's like someone praising Afang soup when you've never tasted it—you smile, but you can't connect to the feeling.

This is how I feel about Christmas.

Christmas held no special feeling in the small house I grew up in Eket. We usually slept and went about our day like it was nothing. I don't have the nostalgic feeling of new clothes or even my legs measured for new footwear. We all ate random food, and my mother's annoying voice filled my head. She would always preach about how it's good to be satisfied with what you are given and not look at what others are doing.

That routine message annoyed me and in my mind I only consoled myself with the hope that one day I will be an adult and I will buy enough chicken and also have the time of my life to celebrate Christmas.

I didn't know that what lay ahead of me would be an adulthood of unfulfilled dreams, the struggle to make ends meet will leave me going hungry on some days, even eating once daily. I didn't know that food will become a luxury to me as an adult and I will begin to judge my parents less. I mean, they had four kids and I can't even take care of myself.

I would go for years without a proper Christmas celebration myself until I met someone I loved and we started cohabiting out of coincidence. It is in his house that I will have my first Christmas.

I still remember how intentional he was about us having a Christmas celebration. It wasn't so much but it was everything for me. The lodge we lived in was very quiet and all the students had gone home. The only noises came from the married couple and the middle-aged man who lived alone.

We made a lot of memories that remain evergreen in my mind, we had started watching this series called Snowfall, every evening we sat on the couch cuddled together while we watched the film and that was the last time I remember feeling at rest.

We had this little agreement that no matter what happens none of us would go ahead to watch any episode without the other and it was nice. I remember placing my head on his lap while he touched my hair and we watched the film and paused it when we needed to do some sweet things to ourselves.

I was living in a bubble that felt so surreal. If anything was wrong I wouldn't know because I was in the gentle hands of my ex-lover. The special feeling of that Christmas didn't just come from our activities together. I made the most delicious jollof rice I have ever made.

He had made arrangements for what we would cook and we left the house that morning, breathing into the dusty harmattan smell in Nsukka, draped in our nightwear while we went to the store close to the house to get stuff.

I got everything that was needed for the food and we made the food together, him sitting on this plastic chair that had a broken arm, helping me cut the onions and asking me if I was okay several times. The food was so good and as someone who has a strong memory, I know there is no jollof I have tasted that was as good as that one. Everything seemed to be in the right proportion, it had the best smell, taste and the rewarm value was superb.

I miss my lover, E. It's so sad that we are not together anymore and he is probably somewhere in the country having the best time of his life. It's another Christmas and there is so much sadness in my heart, I am only surrounded by the white wall in my room. There is an ache in my heart which I have ignored all year long. Maybe I am just lonely, maybe it's because I am not surrounded by so much love and warmth. If I had the chance to have a last phone call with my lover, I would tell him these exact words: "It's Christmas, and I wish you were here.”