The bicycle and my aunt

Today, I caught myself thinking about my aunt. All throughout the day, she's been going in and out of my consciousness. There were moments in between that I found myself in a daydream.

My Tita Goring practically raised me. She was my first teacher. She taught me how to read. She introduced me to kikay stuff like getting me a vanity set when I was in primary school. She gave me my first boutonniere-- a picture of a Menudo member. They were cool back then. 

And then she taught me to drive a bicycle. At seven years old, it was sort of a rite of passage for kids in my province. We used the open field of my elementary school to practice. I had my exhilarating ride there, bruises and wounds. And we had the most beautiful backdrop. All the santan flower in their beds are blooming because it was summer. And the majestic acacia trees seemed to approve of the kids' activities as they bowed their leaves to serve as a canopy; shielding us from the harsh afternoon sun. 

Ok, I wasn't this chic back then. And until now. But you get the drift, eh?

Since then, I'd ride my mountain bike wherever I go. Even if it's just in the nearby market to buy a few pieces of eggs. But I'd also remember that it took me a long time to cycle back to our house. You see, I'd always stop whenever there's a car on the road. Am deathly afraid that it would crush me. 

And then the years just flew by. Am now a married woman. And my Tita is still at home. She doesn't have her good sight anymore. In fact it's the reason she gave why she didn't attend my wedding. She just stayed in her hotel room. Good thing her room had a balcony. She was able to see from afar the ceremony. But not the reception. 

And I forgot to thank her in my little speech. In the whirlwind of things, it slipped from my mind. 

From my reverie born the strongest of desires to go home. See her; listen to her endless stories and complaints. And bring her little joys like sweets and her vitamins. Right now, am looking at promo fares. Sigh. I think I sorely miss my family back home. 

No amount of cosmopolitan living can override the provincial life I temporarily left behind. For always, I'd catch myself drifting back... time after time.

Dear Mama

Dear Mama, 

Belated happy birthday!

I thank God that you are in good health despite the smoking. I think your system has been synthesized already. So, am not going to preach about the perils of it. After three decades of countless sticks and packs, I don't think your lungs can handle a hard stop. 

I just pray that you will have time to enjoy your grand kids and a good life. Ma, we never grew in an environment where we were encouraged to openly express our emotions (except for rage -- remember, my teenage angst?) but I want you to know that you're unconditional love doesn't go unnoticed. 

Please know that I cherish you in spite of our differences when I was younger. Now, I know better. Life has been hard but I hope to be given the opportunity to really make it better for you... if not today, in your twilight years. 

I hope that in my little achievements, I have made you proud. My biggest fear growing up is to one day disappoint you by going home pregnant, out of wedlock. Being the only girl in my brood, I carried the torch. I think that at 34, it hardly matters. Not that I plan to be impregnated soon. *coy grin*

I may not agree so much with your parenting style but please know that you are dearly loved and cherished. I've questioned your decisions in the past. Looking back though, my conclusion is that you are just a very giving person. You're the most generous mother, sister, friend, and neighbor. 

You never turn your back to anyone in need. Even if it would mean that your family will experience a temporary setback. You always weighed on the greater needs of others than of your own comfort. 

Ma, I strive to be like you. One who exercises patience and put a lot of faith in people especially loved ones. You will always choose to see the rainbow when it comes to people's shortcomings. 

For as long as I could remember, I've vowed to be never become like you. Yet today, I wish to live my life mirroring your good virtues. 

Rearing six children is no small feat. And I salute you for fighting for your children. For paving the way for me so I can paint my own version of rainbow.

I love you, Mama.