My Mom loved taking photos. She always made sure that she's got my growing up years documented. What she wasn't able to capture on film, she wrote about it in her little yellow notebook. Once, while going through her files, I found typewritten letters she sent her mother, my Lola, updating her about my early life in great detail - my first haircut, the brand of milk I didn't like, my new-found friends (a tail-less house lizard, and the guards on evening shift). Why, she once reported that I actually blurted out that I wanted to be a 'doktol' (doctor) and go to school in 'U-Pe' (UP). Sadly, none of the two ever happened.
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Growing up an only child has its pros and cons. Pros: I grew up very independent. I can also spend long periods of being alone. Give me books or nice films to watch, and I'm fine for the day. Oh yeah, throw in a large bag of Cheetos, a can of peaches, and a liter of melon milk for good measure. Cons: Turns out, growing up alone can be very lonely. I knew how different I was from my cousins (read: reclusive) when during a reunion, one of them admonished the younger ones by saying,"Don't be too noisy! Si Kuya doesn't like noise." I almost choked on my lunch.
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Living in Cebu during the height of clubbing gave me the chance to loosen up a bit and meet new friends. It was a 7PM-6AM party routine, ending in tapsilog breakfast before we parted ways to sleep off all the alcohol. I think Cebu was one of the happiest times of my life.
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When I turned 30, I was inconsolable. It's what C.S. Lewis wrote as "...coming to terms with the fact that I am a walking and talking adult." I wasn't so sure back then about what I really wanted to do. Now, it's different. There's a plan and trajectory that needs to be followed, with very little room for mistakes.
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As one grows wiser, I also am rediscovering the solitude that was both familiar & comforting to me. I still enjoy watching movies alone, and I still like taking a walk alone. I also still buy books, but can't seem to have the time to read them. The problem with getting absorbed with a book is that work piles up naman (not to mention the resulting disenchantment from my delayed or non-replies). It's very Catch-22esque. What I do miss most, however, is poetry. I miss writing, too. And fishing. I also miss the feeling of being restless the night before a flight. I miss the smell of freshly baked bread. I miss the sunrise. I miss the window seat at Cafe Adriatico. I miss sansrival. I miss my old shirts, none of which fits me anymore (drat!).
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Today, I turn a year older. I remember the things I wanted to do, didn't do, wasn't able to do. Reading what I just wrote now also reminded me that in the early 2000's, I promised to live a life with no regrets. I can't say I have none, but life is too short for regrets. It should be spent being happy & fulfilled about everything that you do, building on all the lessons of the past and "...not letting one's mind run on what you lack as much as on what you have already." (Marcus Aurelius, woot!).
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The future has promises that need to be kept. I look forward to their fulfillment.
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AM+DG | Solo Dios Basta!
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