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It is amazing to know how life can be so full of wonders and awe that when you actually realized that it's there in front of you..time has passed you by and you're left only with MEMORIES!
Memories remind us of yesterdays like us growing through the years …
Last night as I’ve watched my other siblings sitting like couch potatoes in front of the boob tube… I can’t help but notice how time flies so fast. Ten years ago, I can still remember how my sister tried to tell me that she’s no longer a kid who needs me her father-mother kind of a sister through her rebellion stage (as I used to put it!), the months of not speaking with each other after we argued about responsibilities which led us into yelling and ended by me slapping her. It was one of the many trying times we had as siblings, not speaking and avoiding each other. The age and maturity gaps served as barrier for us to understand each other. Her rebellion was a lot far different from mine. She would sleep over some friends’ house and be gone for days (she’d call, though. Informing some members of the family which is basically my brother… that she’s in Baguio, Cebu or any remote place her well-off friends brought her to) it was hard approaching her without yelling to each other… while she’s busy feeling the pain of being “abandoned” by our parents through numerous acts of rebellions, I was also busy trying to heal the wound caused by sudden twist of responsibility I have to shoulder. I’ve completely forgotten that I am only 18 and just starting with my so-called puberty. Needless to say, I act, think and decide differently than teenagers like me do. It was like tying my shoelaces before learning to walk. I was a child clad in a woman’s clothing. I have mastered every edge of pretensions. I would cry in the night silently, fearing my sister to hear my anguish, my anger. In the morning I’d be the oh-so-toughie-older sister on their sight.
Seeing her now, hungrily feasting on green mangoes with her bulging belly conspicuously growing underneath the tattered old shirt, I can’t help but mutter to myself that “my baby” (the thought whom I secretly hidden in myself) is now going to have her own. Over the years, we would still have some sibling squabbles over petty things, she of the pastel color and the ever black me couldn’t really see eye-to-eye. Two years back, I let her spread her wings, we became much open to each other we started having contentious effort to be a listener and a talker after the other. I was aghast to find out that she’s on the family way after taking the pregnancy test. I felt like crying, fearing the worst that might happened to her. Knowing for a fact that she wasn’t ready for a very crucial responsibility such getting pregnant at an early age. For me she’ll always be the “bunso.” Fragile, sensitive with a big sign, “Pamper Me” written. The tears I’ve strongly tried to deny of my eyes welled out, when my brother hug her and emotionally uttered. “Magkaka baby na ang Bunso namin.” Despite the fact that these two were likes cats and dogs always snarling at each other. That scene made me realize that we’re family and that no matter how intricate and turbulent things have become for us, memories of how we made it through our struggling years, with just the three of us pinning every emotions to our deepest core made us strong… united and never divided. I love and hate seeing them that way, for one they made me the softie that I never wanted to be and hated the thought that I am passing my prime.
And as I caught a final glimpse at my sister and how happy she maybe, I know she tried concealing the negative thoughts she’s been thinking right now, dreaded what the future lies ahead for her and her baby, I only wish her more strength and perseverance, that she’ll pull through on whatever her fate’s bounded ahead. Looking back, I would never regret a thing my siblings and I have gone through for it made us the person that we are right now… other’s may have a complete family but if the word doesn’t mean a thing and wasted only what’s the use of having one? We may have lacked the iron gates, other houses have, stones and cobbles that embody a strong one, but we have love and respect enough to build a harmonious and lasting relationship forever. Indefatigably my love for these memories will linger as long as I am still strong to cherish it through my living days, and if in my hazy days patently weak to savor it, I’ll hug the remaining sight of these through the eyes of my Family who’ve grown like an oak tree, then I’ll be more please to welcome my own twilight knowing that “we’ve made it through the quashing rain.”
… A home is not a house
A house is not a home…
… If it’s not built through love
… Strengthened by respect
… Deeply rooted through time and space.
Bhongmartinez – 08/18/2000