Crossing Streets, Crossing Life

Crossing Streets, Crossing Life.

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Seven Paragraph Love Story

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  1. They kissed in front of people they don’t know or probably would not know in their entire life, that’s why they don’t care. Probably, they will never forget the soft feel of her lips brushing his in a shy tentative kiss, how around him and within him, her fragrance swirled, her warmth and softness filling his with wonder.
  2. There was a two young and extremely interesting people who decided to create a relationship with love not yet discovered. The guy, who most of the time imagines himself flying every time a spark of laughter escape his attention. And the girl, who was so beautiful that it took years for him to discover she was not beautiful at all and less interesting. Ironic and that what it is.
  3. The relationship spends some rough experiences while trying to survive what in the first place should not have been there—both of them together. Admittedly, she was probably the something everything in this world would find amusing. Only that she rocked the life of the guy as if a stone bombarded his head hard enough to break it, but actually will not so the pain remains there for some time. So the something is nothing at all.
  4. Freaking but true. Their relationship last for years which the expectation somehow meets reality, but they broke-up like a mother calling her daughter playing from the street of Martial Law because of curfew—you argue you die, you stay you die more.
  5. When they broke-up the girl felt sad and the guy trembled in tears and sooner it became normal and eventually forgotten, but not on days like this.
  6. Believingly, many people see the events in their life as a mix of various events that happened either by coincidence or fate, but a tiny part of our population thinks that there is no coincidence and fate is a result of our choices and actions, and sadly this story is a result of that.
  7. One major account that should not be forgotten in love stories is its sense and sensibility. Both were necessary and one cannot exist without the other. Luckily this story has its sensibility, more importantly every aspect of it has it, but frankly it is senseless and that where it ends.

March 4, 2011

Dear Father,
I don’t know how to begin this but I’ll start it anyway. I know no matter how I begin this you will eventually understand my point, you know me enough that words need not be spoken to bridge the gap between our communication. But I like putting this in words; it is somehow therapeutic as talking to you face-to-face, heart-to-heart, and we both know the present circumstances does not allow that to happen. So let’s just maximize the available resources we have, or shall I say, the available resources I have.

 
I really miss you. I like to begin this long and tiring narration with that appealing phrase which I know makes your soul happy, literary and figuratively. Also, it is easier for me to say this knowing I have curved a smile in your face, if you have retained one. I wonder how many times did I made your smile when you were still here, I don’t know, you have always been reticent on your emotions, except anger. But now I understand how anger can break the seemingly unbreakable silence in men, I have understood it through experience, my own “anger experience”. Also, I really don’t know if you were serious in saying to me that I should take law as a profession due to my aggressive reasoning when I was young, because seriously, I am thinking to take it after college. By the way, I will be graduating this April, and by hook or by crook I will be an Industrial Engineer this year. I am happy knowing I have surpassed the degree; I am saying it as if it’s done. The course is not easy, more so, it is next to being hard, at least on your standards, you have always been that way, never contended, never stopped aiming the highest possible peak of the mountain, even the “thing” did not stopped you from fulfilling your dreams, our dreams.

 
I will be graduating without flying colors or medals for academic achievements, but I have gained distinctions and awards for leadership excellence. You have always taught me to be that way, remember when I was crying over my unfinished project way back in elementary? You told me to finish it by myself no matter how hard it may be or how ugly the result is, you taught me there how to stand on my own and be the leader of my own worries. I thank you for that, and I thank you for all the things you taught me, you have always been present in my academic journey.

 
I don’t know if I have told you these things way back when you can easily hear my voice or can easily read my words. I don’t want to say my regrets; instead I want to proclaim my victory, your victory. But forgive me, I can’t say it whole heartedly, probably I am not contended, I am not finish with my battle and may not have won half of it, there is so much more outside the battle grounds of my college journey, and for that I feel so little compared to what you envisioned me to be. I know I have disappointed you the day I closed the gates of your UP dream, you have always wanted me to be there, and I have always been in opposition to your plans. I don’t know, probably I am just being rebellious that time.
They say you were proud of me the day I received the most outstanding student leader of the year, but I rather prefer to hear it from you, but you can’t, you were not there anymore, so I decided to keep the award on myself and went home as if nothing happened. I want you to see it personally; I like to see how you read the commendations about me and hold the medal as if it was from Olympics or from Nobel, but you can’t, you were not there, at least physically. Probably you have saw it basing on other belief, but I like to see you seeing it, I like to see you touching it, feeling it as if it worth an entire vault of gold.

 
I don’t know why I am saying these things, but believe me, I really want to say this so long that every time I started doing it, my fingers just can’t type the letters. The idea of talking to you just breaks my confidence, you were too high, too honor that I kneel myself just to say “I love you” and “I am doing all of these to make you happy,” but I can’t, you were not here to see me kneeling. I should have cried more the day you left us, I should have shout my heart out just to avoid nights like this, but I can’t, you never wanted me to cry, you never wanted to see me expressing sorrow over spoiled milk, but you were never a spoiled milk, you are the blood that sustain the veins of
my courage. But still, you were not here.

 
I always wanted to see you on my graduation, I always wanted to hear you clapping after hearing our surname on the commencement exercise, but I can’t, you will not be there, at least as far as my eyes can captivate, I want it for real, I don’t want it superficial. I just miss you so badly, that I wish you were here, even just for a day.

 

 

*Written weeks before my college graduation.
**Photo courtesy of guardian.co.uk

Happiest Feeling

I don’t remember when, but I’ am very sure it happened. I don’t know who exactly were there, but I’ m very sure my father was there with me, mama, ate and kuya. I know writing is about descriptions, but how can you explain something unfit of your wildest dream? It sounds odd and overrated, but that’s how really is.

 
That feeling when you want to burst in an instant because you cannot take the intense flow of emotion and suddenly everything seems light and you cannot control your face to simultaneously smile and laugh while trying not to cry which you know will spoil the moment, but still small tears little by little came out of your eyes. That’s the best description I can make to the happiest feeling I didn’t felt before except for this particular and singular moment in my life.
The setting is simple and plain. No over-drama and other Neverland features. We were sitting in the sala of our old house where I remember spending my whole childhood to adolescence. It was probably morning or early afternoon because I can see the sunlight passing through the light-colored curtains of our yellow walls. We were more than ten because there were additional chairs located to each space beside the corner of our couches, which were all taken by faces I can’t remember but I know I’ am familiar.

 

 

The climax happened here. My mother was ironing a white shirt which I should never forget was the same color we were all wearing. I know they were talking about something and as I came closer from our kitchen holding a plate full of grapes the topic became clearer. I was wearing my sando and shorts. I sit unconsciously to the nearest chair which is also facing the back of my mother and beside papa. He was with his blue pants and a shirt, and then seconds after I sit down I hear him said to mama “pagplantsa mo din ako”, instantly that gave me an opportunity to strike a comment which for similar chance I don’t usually take. But I took it and made an important decision in my life and release the “cheesiest” pick-up line I can tell to my parents, “bilhan mo na kasi si papa, nagpapabili lang yan!” Boom! The crowd cracked into laughter and suddenly everyone is teasing them which leave my mother the only option and I’m glad she did, to come to my father and pinch him for saying those words in front of us. We were all laughing, I was laughing hard and if that will not be the hardest and loudest, laughter will not be the right term then what else? I felt crying but I didn’t, which I know will only spoil the moment and steal the attention from my parents, but little tears escaped my eyes.

 

 

Then, I woke-up.  I really miss my father… just like any other day.