closure

(This is an old piece from more than a couple of years ago. Still hoping against hope, I never got around the courage to publish. I guess it's time to take that step forward and stand by what I decided to name this piece.)

(source)

I told myself not to put this thing down until it’s clearly and finally over. I’ve always known to hold on tight until the end of the line, that I either wait and make up for my late entrance or continue chasing that butterfly until it finally lands on my palm. I believe I was perseverance personified - I persist in my pursuits. But it’s different this time, and I realized, when it comes to things that we feel inside, some of our perspectives shift.

Pinker was the last indulgence of my late bloom. At one point, the idea of her was the summation of everything that I’ll ever look for in a relationship. She was that one thing that got me planning and thinking hard about the days to come. I have known a few who were pretty and smart and fun while God-fearing, but her entire wrap was simply a glow above the rest.

We were formally introduced nearly two years ago although I had her number much earlier than that, thanks to a mutual friend who insisted I start communicating with her, which I nonchalantly replied yes. I never did. I was eyeing an old acquaintance who I haven’t had communication with for a long time, and whose episode with me, later I will find out, will be short-lived. Later I knew, the same friend told, that Pinker was also already with someone else.

I was trying to get my faith founded when I had the chance to meet her again. I had nonchalance still since that was only a few months after that short-lived romance. And she was still with that somebody. I became active in my service, squeezing time between work and church and going home and spending time with new-found acquaintances. It counted months and I was finally living my life. Then one time, an elder in the community much like a mother to me, gave me her number, which like the first instance, I half-heartedly said yes but also never used. She was free this time but I haven’t had the urge to chase again then.

Finally one time, I happened to ask about a scheduled out-of-town community congress which I wanted to attend. I can’t recall why it had been her when I could have easily asked one of our elders. All I can conjure up now was that I learned about the congress through her announcement. It ended up me not attending the congress but it would be the start of exchanging little niceties with her.

Those little niceties began to build up. Oddly, I'd feel discomfited during our next meetings. Where it had been easy to cuddle a conversation before, I found myself grappling on how to start one. That was when I felt a swarm of butterflies in my stomach and heard a band of thunderbolts through my ears. Torpedoes hit me hard on the spine which all the way cramped me to my tongue.

Shortly, I knew I was not singularly hit by her lightning. Reckoning, I placed that I was last in line but I continued to set my pace still, surprisingly, doing things I never did and never thought I would. Then I realized, my pace had been, pardon my French, too damn slow.

Then the communication stopped when I learned that she finally made her choice. I don’t intend to delve any deeper into this. Saying she made the right one will be self-incriminating. But what I had for her bordered on deep respect and from what little I knew, she picked up the good man that she deserved.

I tell those I confide with that acceptance had been easy. I guess, that too, was half-hearted. It was harder than I thought when it hit me at point-blank. The last conference had been especially trying but I excelled in letting it stream unnoticed.

To break free, I joined another community. I continued meeting other acquaintances but none could keep up to the manner and measure of what I had and held for her. The same elder told me in one instance that God is still cooking up something for me, that He gives only what we deserve and that is only the best. I said I’m no longer looking, I screwed up my chance to take on my best. I cling to what she said last – I should be thankful for the feeling and the experience. I add, I should be thankful for the time she decided to spend with me and for keeping up with me on some late nights although I would not have been the best reason for keeping her awake. I assure her, with the sincerity of my intentions, that those nights got me looking forward to the new day.

A friend recently e-mailed me Mark Macapagal’s article in The Manila Times which talked so aptly about timing. No amount of preparation nor intensity of feeling could bring you that one desire if it’s not the time. I get the idea.

I stopped arguing with myself if I should put this thing down. I already stopped thinking about what-ifs and what-could-have-beens. The load of these questions are getting heavy and it is time to put it off. Pain is too strong an emotion for me now.

Recently, I incidentally chanced with her again, which by some twisted stroke of chance, the second during that week (I’ve been trying to avoid a meeting - more for myself, but I guess a little for her too. But it’s a real small place we’re both in). Yet it helps unknowingly. It had been nice having to talk to her again even if the talk was way beyond the concerns and borders of feelings. I swear I still felt the thumping of thunderbolts but I knew the swarm of butterflies were already cramming somewhere else, not that I’ve driven them away. From what I gathered, she is very happy. I should be happy for her too for I’ve been praying for that since.

I realized then that  there’s one thing that I should do – pray for my happiness too. And maybe tomorrow, with this published, I’ll start changing passwords.

scotch mist

Sometimes, nature gives you a sick sense of humor for a realization.

There's this guyabano outside of my room bearing several ripening fruits. 'Ignorable' guyabano is to me (I still go for mangoes when fruits) but I was drawn into stocktaking one day. There's this particular one that just got me: it is not the biggest (which would typically be the favored one) neither the most plump of the bunch (which would make for a pulpy shake) but I knew this tiny piece would just be right to 'satisfy' a craving in me. This one got me into daily morning visits and my anticipation was building for the 'right time' for this piece to finally ripen in the care of nature's elements. As they say, "masarap ang hindi hinog sa pilit" (what's ripened by time is more delightful).

Then the day finally came when I figured it's the right time for picking. I haven't climbed a tree in quite a time to note that the guyabano branch is not as sturdy to carry my weight and 'hantiks' (big red ants) had been guarding the trunk where 'my' fruit was hinged on. Quite a gamble for one 'ignorable' guyabano, but I was driven into letting loose of some defenses for this one glory - to my terms at least.

So how would you feel when you got out that morning mustering all hopes and find a flock of 'kulansyangs' (red-eyed black birds) pecking into 'your' fruit? Only the seeds which fell to the earth knew how long they had been devouring it.

A raging sense was all over you twinged with the eroding feeling of regret: I should have picked it 'yesterday'. Yet it was funny why looking at the birds cannot make you feel the audacity to drive them away. It's no longer of any use because even after you succeed in shooing them away and reclaim 'your' fruit, it might no longer serve its purpose since its flesh were already among the birds. What is there left for your planned guyabano shake?

Then you learn to take things as they are, maybe in the way they were intended to be. And finally, when you steered clear of things, you realize that you had no right to claim 'that' guyabano as yours: looking by the window you knew that the 'kulansyangs' owned the entire tree. They always did and never really left it. While my eyes were fixed on 'that' fruit, I did not notice that on a far branch, they had built nests. I couldn't know for how long they had been humming melodies for that guyabano to ripen.

What better thing to do but to retreat to your own confines. You cannot continue wallowing on that wee bit feeling of loss over that 'thing' that cannot become, had never been yours in the first place. What better thing to believe is to be persuaded in the thought that somewhere, other 'guyabanos' will soon come into bloom that no birds own. What better thing to realize is that you have the capacity to 'nurture' and have hope.

Outside, the rain slowly drip and I noticed that there are new buds coming into bloom. I hope in time, the birds will give me 'this' one piece.

a short letter to a little sister

I reckon that we haven't really talked for a long time. By talk, I meant having those conversations about little things – your assignments in school, side comments on shows we watch on TV, the jokes we caught up with in texts from silly pals, our ambitions and plans for ourselves (though it might have not appeared that I was trying to address this more to you). I may not look like it, but I miss those exchanges.

I suppose many things have changed since a few years ago. I became too rigid, unforgiving and I shut you off too easily.

Everybody makes mistakes. That is one painful fact that we have to live with. Some of my friends committed the same mistake that you did but I felt them. To counsel had been so easy then. In your case, I didn't get it. I put all the blame on you. You had been so reckless, headstrong and plain pointless. You were not content in just inflicting wound - you even rubbed salt on it.

You may have not realized but I was as shaterred as you were. I lost not only my tall dreams for you. I lost all hopes that one day you'd gather your acts together and take that one step forward without taking two steps backward. I started to doubt every word that you say and your actions became a constant disheartening stroke.

Over time, my sanctimony sank you down further. The distance between us became too wide it had been hard for you to reach me. I even waited for another catastrophe before I tried to drift into squaring off. That should be the greatest lesson to us both. But maybe now, it's more directed to me.

I have long forgiven you. More than I care to show, I'm slowly re-building my hopes for you. I hope you do not waste this one last chance. Get up and start walking again.

Do not do this for me neither for your own sake. Do this for your son. From now on, do not lose sight that you no longer live just for your own impulses. You are responsible for the life you brought to this earth.

I will try to bend a little further. I'll pull the belt tighter to make both ends meet. I promise I won't be expecting much just as I did before. Now, I only ask that you do what's right.

I apologize for the times that I kept my distance. I know now you suffered more than I cared to understand. This time, I will try to be more present and within reach. I will try to be a better kuya.

I know saying these things to you personally is very unlikely. We are not used to these melodramas. But I hope we can pick up where we left off. How about talk to me about school?

By the way, those adjusting entries that you didn't quite understand, I will still have to re-read them. It's been long since I prepared one of those. I should already be doing so but I'm driven into writing this. I don't know but somehow, I feel a little lighter.

lenienza, 5pm

At last, the remaining strokes of the painting works were done. Even with the interruption of the scaffoldings, I can already see its grandeur – the product of some years of stashing salaries, bonuses and mortgage loans. Finally, seven years of renting will come to a close.

Outside, I look at all four sides to see if everything’s put in place.

The glass on the east side walls will be a huge savings on the power bill. With the sun freely coming in, there won’t be a need to turn any lights on during the day. And, isn’t it quixotic to see the rain drip on them come rainy days?

Good that I insisted on stainless for the railings on the terrace above the car porch. Wrought irons couldn’t have been this chic. I imagine the Friday beer sessions on that terrace. But the singing should not be so loud to agitate the neighbor (I heard he has short temper).

The architect made a great job inside. The study was in hues of black and white with huge shelves pushed to the side.The same motif for the kitchen, the rooms and the bath. Solid colors; they’re not so loud. I’m thinking of giving the architect a bonus.

On the southwest corner of the lot, I’ll start growing trees: rambutan, lanzones, durian. I’ll build a payag there too where the family can stay for siesta.

‘Come on,’ my brother-in-law calls out, ‘rain’s coming!’

Suddenly, the house was gone and all that lays there is a grass-teemed piece of lot. Next time, I’ll be bringing a scythe.

an open letter to heids on her birthday (9.7.2009)

More than a year ago, Maya asked me to write something for your despedida. You were due to fly to Singapore during that time and I think they were preparing something for a send-off. When she told me that, what immediately came to mind was that day in May 2003 when you and Gay and Zenie (I can’t recall the others who were there too) were off to Manila. I came to wish you good luck. Although feeling a bit left out, I felt happy that you were chasing close that dream of becoming a CPA. In the letter, I wanted to tell you how proud I am (in a way a Kuya does when his little sister does something great) for your successes, that I wish you find housemates like you had in Makati, and that everything will be okay. I apologize that the letter has never been written, but those well-wishes were silently embedded in my prayers.

Now, although ‘uncertified’ (your own word), I know what you have gone through and where you are right now are things that many could only hope for. (Sometimes, when things are not okay in the office, I envy you but I realize we have to be somewhere at some point in time). No need to tell you how proud I am of the things that you have now, you already know that and I don’t want you to be sappy on your day, but I’m feeling a little nostalgic here and wish to do a little reminiscing (I wish we could pass a hand-made card around - you did it first in class - but I guess it will be too late now to pass it all around Asia and UK to make it on your day).

Along with the other four ‘huggables’ (I don’t know if you still feel like being called as such, hehe), I want to thank you for making college quite a breeze through on many times. Many of those who had the chance to know you can attest how great a friend you can be. I remember now how you and Lynette conspired so I can attend that last acquaintance party. Similar instances will follow and you came out of you way to make things a little lighter. I know those who are with you now have similar stories to tell.

We were together a little over four years and it’s always great to have you and your ideas of fun around. You made plans for most of our Christmas parties during and after college. The Valentine’s exchange-gifts was your brainchild too. Although we celebrate these occasions differently now (we say were already grown-ups – admit it!), it’s fun to look back on these things and feel giddy once more. I still smile when I think of RVY (saging rebosado and siopao on isaw sauce), tempura off the grade school gate, from satti breakfasts in the canteen to lunches at Roebucks (sounds classy but all we ordered there was ginataang gulay, nutritious and cheap) from speech choir practices to group studies (kuno!). Yes, even those Jesuit tortures (other word for tutelage) and the Pena quandary (you know the story) had their fun segments too (I couldn’t figure how I looked when I cried on the floor, I think that was the funny part). I can only imagine how it is for those who have known you longer than four years.

I am not exaggerating when I tell you that you are one creative brain. I easily got Austine’s point when he calls you ‘mother brain’. You are pregnant with ideas and you can immediately put something into writing; if you cannot put it writing, it can surely make its way out of your mouth. I appreciate your collection of axioms and aphorisms (even from movies and telenovelas too. But I know this one’s your favorite - “The youth is the hope of the fatherland. Plant trees!)

I wish to share these untold stories too, some bits that I am personally thankful for (more of a confession actually, a major turn-off for a prospect whose skimming through out there):

You taught me first how to use the internet. Remember Netzilla where you assisted me in signing up for my first e-mail account (that was Mailcity which later became Lycos. I think Gay or Zenie was also there). I know you were holding back your hoot when I couldn’t point the cursor to one tab (by then I knew that when you said I raise my ‘mouse’, it didn’t mean I lift that object which looked more like Palmolive soap bar than a rodent but position that arrow to that button). You never knew that I sweated all over until we hit ‘sign-up successful’.

You also introduced me to social networking (ha? Wla ka pang Friendster?). I know I was the pinnacle of cyber-monggoness* so, thank you for clicking me to cyber-existence (checken counter couldn’t have been born too).

Bitaw, thanks for believing in the illusion that I could write (I still think that that is just an illusion). I don’t know, but you have your way of making people feel good about something that they wanted to do and pushing people to strut their stuff merely by doing yours.

You said that you’re thankful our paths have crossed; I know I should be saying that. But if you insist, cge, pagbibigyan kita. It’s your birthday anyway.

I wish you all the best that are yet to come and the best boyfriend a girl like you deserves (is he ‘yet to come too’? wla n man ko balita about ana). I’m writing this because I cannot sing you your birthday song. And you know how I sing – poetically.

Happy 30th birthday Deedee! :D

(I will no longer call you ‘kachoks’ – that sounds jologs and obsolete now, improper for the cosmo woman that you have become. And I bet, you’re already speaking ‘ni hao’).

* monggoness – is a certain state of idiocy (from the root word ‘mongo’). I heard this first from Chu, who by the way, Heids calls her immortal chuvanescense. Whatever that meant, only them both know. I wish to thank Chu for this word though. Such a lexicograhical breakthrough.