Silently Hoping Under a Starless Sky

We went to Bulacan yesterday.

It has been long since my last trip there. Well, maybe not very long, but long enough for me to feel nostalgic and yearn for things I have enjoyed doing in the unpolluted dirt roads and in the fresh, comforting winds of Sta. Maria. Besides, each week that has passed turned out to be progressively slower than the week before. I just can't understand why, and I think I'm not doing anything to understand why. Maybe I am actually doing something, but maybe for a different purpose and reason.

This can't be happening all over again. It just can't happen again.

I asked Mamie if we would be staying in Lola's house this time. She said yes.

Thoughts immediately entered my secluded mind. I did not want to go there since I really did not like the people in Bayan. I did not want to mingle with all those relatives of mine. And for one thing, I lacked several hours of sleep, and there is no cool, silent place in Bayan to take a quick shuteye. I'd rather stay in Sta. Cruz and spend the whole day snoozing in the room of my cousin, waking up only to eat or to visit the can. But there was nothing I could do since it was the birthday of Ninong Ador, and all of us were obliged (or probably forced) to go there.

When we arrived, I immediately looked for Lola and kissed her. Of course, I took the right hand of each of my titos and titas and gently touched them with my forehead, stooping lowly in the process. Since everyone was obliged (or forced) to go, it took me about more than ten whole minutes just to respect and recognize my elders. Yes, the family of Mamie is quite big, compared to that of Dadee's.

I find myself always going to the old, wooden house of Tita Susan whenever I go to Lola's compound. I remember the times when my cousins and I were still little. They would play Street Fighter on Jerome's SNES under the shade of Tita Susan's kaimito tree. I remember I never joined because I just always lost. All of us would sleep there on the cold floor or on the hard, wooden flooring upstairs whenever we would have a vacation there. When we were a little older, Tito Ben gave us a PlayStation. Kuya Omel would play Resident Evil amidst the darkness of the room. We would always watch him play that game, and we would not be able to sleep unless the lights were on. Tita Susan's bathroom remained unchanged for over thirteen or so years. It is still the same shabbily covered 1x1 square meter enclosure connected to their dining area and kitchen. The holes in the yero are still present, and towels are still used to block body parts from curious, peeping eyes. I remember times when I faithfully updated my quiz chart while I sat by the window in Tita Susan's simple sala, being feasted on by mosquitoes. A lot of nostalgic things came rushing to my memory as I looked on each and every one of us, all grown up and living our lives differently from before. A lot of memories came flooding into my mind as I looked around Tita Susan's old, wooden home which is a testament to many tropical storms and numerous shouts, yells, and misunderstandings. Things that I have become sensitive of momentarily dissipated from my being as I felt the warmth of the atmosphere which has embraced many moments of happiness, love, and contentment.

Is my simple life before better than my trapped existence now?

Later that day, all of us indulged in a gallon of Double Dutch ice cream sponsored by Dada. Diane's excuse was she passed her battery exam, and that proved to be successful in getting P300.00 from Dada. I ate ice cream like never before. I don't exactly know how or why I felt that way, but maybe because I just simply missed everyone in Bulacan. I missed my cousins, my titos and titas, and the places full of both happy and sad memories I grew up in.

Or maybe because I felt free in some way or another.

Before we left, Mamie took this picture (of Kuya Omel, Jom, Kuya, Diane, me, and Ate) that she will send to Tito Ben who now lives in New Jersey.


I was happy.

On the way home, I started to feel more and more nostalgic about things, especially about things which have happed relatively recently as compared to my childhood memories in Bulacan. I started to feel alone once more, especially when we passed by the field where children usually flew their kites made out of twigs and grocery bags. I gazed at the sky in search of stars shining faintly in the darkness of the night. I silently hoped to see even just one star struggling to keep on shining, even if darkness embraces it. I did not see any, but I kept searching, until I finally saw something shining across the sky. I squinted my eyes for me to better see them, but they disappeared. I opened my eyes wide, and there they were again, floating in the infinite darkness and uncertainty of the twilight. It was then I realized that those weren't the stars I was looking for, but were reflections of my tears welling up in my eyes.