October 18, 2007

My Life Story


Dad grew up in the mountains while mom spent her childhood by the sea. They met in the city, fell in love and had me, unfortunately, during this supposed-to-be not so romantic process. “You were raised quite differently from us,” they would often tell me. Well, what my dad really wanted to say was “Dud you’re lucky you didn’t have to walk five kilometers just to get to school, and only have a coconut for lunch.” Anyhow, I turned out quite very independent… had horns until I turned eight but retained a skull as hard as my surname until now. No doubt my brother would then call me “Pontius Pilate” whenever we entangle in a brawl.

When I was in high school, I remember mom ordering my sister to pray for the salvation of my soul because they couldn’t yank me to go with them to the church. I got a sermon when she found out in PTA meeting that I will be graduating on top of my class “Every parent in the meeting knew their child’s academic ranking except me.” I thought she was really going to shake me by my collar for intentionally hiding the notice.

Even on my college graduation, they didn’t have an inkling that I’ll be graduating cum laude. They only found out minutes before the grand march. “You should accompany me when I get my diploma,” I said. “Why? We though only parents of students graduating with honors can…” and dat dat dat. Reading from their reactions, I’m not sure if they’re going to:
a.) congratulate or hug while congratulating me.
b.) give me another long killing-me-softly sermon despite the crowd.
c.) drag me by my ear or both my ears, or worse by my brand new barong to the nearest corner and have a friendly “What is this again?” chit chat.

And so before I could find out, I hurried off to my seat. Medal means less to me. I’m not as brilliant as Einstein or Dexter. I’m content as long as I can make someone smile, and knowing that even for once, yah just for even a moment in this lifetime, my parents really, truly, obligingly loved me, unconditionally.
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