Falling into place

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If we take care of the moments, the years will take care of themselves.
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Whenever I am at home these days, my cousin Ria and I usually eat mid-morning snacks together. Other than bringing baby Twixie over to be my current playmate, I like having her around. Why?

She is two years my junior but she figured prominently in my childhood as we were constant playmates. We go a long way back. It’s return to Pooh Corner, Christopher Robin and, yes, ruffled undies. I can think of no more graphic interpretation.

True to our being 80’s kids, we’d engage in countless sports like our life depended on it. No kidding.

Biking, patintero, tumbang preso, climbing trees, jogging, piko, table tennis, Chinese garter, hide and seek, luksong tinik, football, swimming, volleyball, badminton, hulug-hulugang ginto, touch-the-handkerchief, monkey-monkey-Annabelle-how-many-monkeys-did-you-see, hula hoops or plain running in the rain.

Those games which ended up on stalemate were decided on by jack-en-poy. Hahaha. Ria had this uncanny ability to win it almost every time. I hated her for it as I was irredeemable on that score. Barring that waterloo, Barring that waterloo, I did very well in all those sports such that our playmates always wanted me to be part of their teams. Ria hated me for that.

Sit-down events would involve jackstones, pick-up sticks, trump cards, sungka, rubber bands, gameboys, jolens (so much better than saying marbles, yes?), and Ritchie Rich/ Popeye/ Bioman/ Shaider/ Pacman/ Transformers/ SuperFriends sessions with my Pop Cola or Ria’s Sarsi and Nanay’s champorado, puddings or pancakes, or powdered Milo mixed with loads of Birch Tree and sugar.

We were also in the business of plucking leaves, twigs, flowers and whatnots from our ill-fated garden. We’d chop, slice, mince, crush and cook them in clay pans and pots made in Antipolo, no less. We lovingly served them to stray cats and dogs which, unfortunately, never paid us another visit after their first try. We always wondered why.

When we were into our teens, believe it or not Bloggie, we joined the local church choir. Just for fun, as always. I was an alto and Ria was a soprano. The highlight of our short-lived career was singing Latin songs at the Asian Institute of Liturgy and Music. Our conductor had so much faith in our group he thought nothing of using us in his graduation recital. I don’t know if it was out of white fear or undeniable talent that carried our group through, but we sure made it.

As time went by, we sort of drifted apart. I basically lost track of what was happening to her and to the world, for that matter. I remember struggling with a lot of issues on my own. I was so myopic I couldn’t care less what happened to people other than my family. But now that I look back, I realize she must have faced up to life’s challenges harder, much harder than I could have had managed on my own. She lost her mother, then her father, then her home. She survived a tumultuous relationship with an inveterate freeloader. For the life of me, I couldn’t hold a candle with what she had to go through to get to where she is right now.

Right now? She is a picture of pregnant happiness, no pun intended. You see Bloggie, she is expecting her second child in February. She married a very good man. She went back to the house they lost, restored it and made it her growing family’s home. If I think about it, everything she lost was given back to her in different packages, apparently overloaded with blessings. Here, I remember what a friend told me. God helps those who helps themselves.

Now why, really, do I like her? She is one tough cookie, like Rosanna Roces’ brand of fearlessness minus the latter’s misdemeanors and triple X adventures. She also has this way of endearing herself to people, particularly elder townsfolk. That’s why I never need go out of the four corners of our house to know the latest tittle-tattle in the four corners of our town.

My goodness! I have to write it all down before I finally get it. I have met and will surely meet lots of other people but she is one of those people who will always remind me of my roots. I cannot drive home the point more clearly.