First Day High (June 2005)

It’s school opening and like no other stranger on this school, I feel uncomfortable. I went to my first morning class at E23. Hmm…there were these people whose faces I don’t know. I don’t have the guts to talk to anyone so I decided to be quiet and sit at the corner near the windows. Suddenly, I was disturbed by a snap sound. I turned to my left and saw a girl snapping her fingers beside me. She introduced herself and the rest in the row. So, there I was, started to join the noise in the Louisian community.

(Hint: Okay, you can now compute my age..hahaha)

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Fall

Remorse never came.
I watch these
Tips and strands fall..
A memory of a year
That belongs to
Her..
Of changes
And longings unseen before.
I never thought it was
Or will pass for sometime..
But it should.
The clock won’t stop
It has been there before I, and
Running for me,
for all, until maybe
eternity.
I should quit waiting;
Go on.
Hold on somewhere
And let the leaves fly.

image

a Cup of Memory

a cup of coffee

I’ve been stirring my coffee for a minute now, I guess. Every time I get here at our office pantry and make one cup of this caffeine, I always get lost. I mean, stirring, stirring, and stirring until sometimes, office mates would tell me like, “Hey, what’s with your coffee? Are you stirring it to get it cold? You might want to put ice?” I am really lost to somewhere else, to those times wherein someone would order me to make coffee served with anything – cookies, biscuits, bread and even breakfast meal or other meal of the day depends on what time he arrives for a visit. Yes, he wasn’t part of the household but he’s one of the foundations. He’s my lolo. It was always a scene at our house’s window where he shows up and putting there down bottles of pickled chili or live chicken. When he sits down, it follows that he orders coffee and food. Accustomed to it, I know how his coffee tastes – black, little sugar. It was a frequent (almost every week or once in half-month) visit.

It was. That was why may be after three weeks of not coming made me wonder. Every time I arrive at home from a weekly boarding for school, I ask about him but they said he won’t come. They told me he was under medication with my aunt accompanying him. I didn’t know what he had until one Wednesday, my mother texted me that they were in the hospital. He was already in a comatose. The following day while I was in the class, actively participating in the games, I received a neighbor’s message and it reads, “Wala na si lolo mo (Your grandfather is gone.)”. Unnoticed, I cried at the corner of the room. I went home Friday and I saw him there lying on his wooden bed. It was a painful truth how he had gone too soon because at those few weeks, my mother’s side of family just started untangling things of whatever disputes they have . If there was something good that happened with his absence, the family’s relationship had gone better. I know he is happy with that wherever he is.

His life might not be a perfect blend like his coffee, sometimes the sugar was more or less but I know that right from that moment he bid goodbye, God had already perfected it in heaven. I love you Lo!

***in memory of my Lolo Constancio, may he be happy now wherever he is

a Bridge of His Thoughts

I was texting him one afternoon. “Saan ka po ngayon?”

“Ah, tumatambay lang muna dito sa tulay on my way home.”,

text back nya. My mind instantly pictured this amazingly good man I call kuya. Granting my brain’s imaginative thoughts, parang nasa pelikula. A man with his motorbike parked at a side of a bridge and gazing so far, no one can reach his thoughts. It was a memory every time I pass by bridges and emotions flood through.

_________________________________________________

Kuya Bong, a college friend

Memory Lane

I do find myself going back to that moment we met. And I,

I miss you.

One-by-one

Here I am

Counting the steps

The miles, the distance

We’ve been afar now.

I always go back

To that first day

I replied ‘hi’

When you said hello

That sunny spirit

Shining on your cheeks

Crossing over to my dampened soul.

I always go back

To where we’ve been

Chatting, the messages

In my phone

The no nonsense and the whatever

Things we argued and agreed;

They were history

I wouldn’t afford deleting.

I always go back to

That same spot we used

To by stand, killing time

But not our conversation

My insights and yours

Your rants and mine

The passions we have

In common,

The differences we respect;

Sure they divide us

But we didn’t fade out.

I always go back

To that undisturbed, wordless

Few hours

In silence, we understand

The troubled, the weary heart

Crying to the other

For comfort, embracing arms

Protecting from hurt

Restoring what was lost

That love, enough to knit

A torn part.

I always go back

To the mischievous sorts

The deliverability of our doings

That ‘fun’, ‘just now’

We’re going to not make it twice.

I always go back to that fight,

I thought it’s over..

I won’t see you again, hear your voice

but yeah, we managed to go

back where we were;

proved that our bond

isn’t stiff, it’s flexing

bamboo, bent and just

stood again.

I always go back

to the assurance of your smile,

shaking off my no confidence

that we are strong,

that we can make it

that we can conquer every doubt;

I am sure, we did.

I always go back

To that day

You gave me a hug,

It felt right, half

And half, I knew

It won’t be.

You went with Him.

I miss you.

I always go back

To where we started

To where we went

To all things we’ve been through

And will always go back

To a moment where you’re not

Just a memory

But real somewhere in my chest..

Etched and treasured, forever be my beloved.

 “One-by-one Here I am Counting the steps The miles, the distance We’ve been afar now.”