Tuesday, November 17, 2009

21 Years of Living (part 1)


It took me 21 years to realize that I have lived enough to experience a lot of things in this life. I was cooking while watching an animated version of Azumanga Daio (well, it has nothing to do with my realization) when I thought that I should write some important events in my life.

The oldest memory I have was the time I woke up in our house at Caloocan. I jumped off the bed and looked for my mom. Then, one fondest memory during those days that I have is the time when I got sick and I had to sleep in my parent’s bedroom. My big brother crawled a lot of times to peek in the room. I caught him doing that. I guess he’s not used to sleeping alone since we share the same bedroom. I guess I was 3 years old during that time.

The next memory that I will never forget is the time when I was kidnapped. I was 4 years old and my mom brought us to Grand Central Mall. We were in the Ladies Shoes and my mom left us at the bench nearby. She reminded us to stay there and we did. Well, it was I who did that. After a couple of minutes, my brother told me that he will go to see my mom because she’s taking to long. He told me to stay where I am. It wasn’t too long when he left when a lady approached me. She grabbed my hand and told me that my mom is looking for me. I protested and told her that my mom is in the opposite direction in which she is pointing. But she pulled me from my seat and the next thing I know, we are walking in the huge mall. She carried me before we got out of the door. Then, there was this large staircase. We passed the exit and I saw a man standing outside. He is wearing a white shirt and maong pants. We had an eye contact. Then, the lady brought me to the side walk. She told me that I should give her my jewelries because they might get lost. I didn’t answer any of her questions because I was busy looking for my mom and brother. I remembered that I was terrified during that time but I didn’t cry. She was finished taking off my jewelries and I saw her place them in her handkerchief (kidnappers bring handkerchief and it has a pink floral design in it). Then, she placed the handkerchief in her back pocket when the man I saw earlier approached us. She grabbed my hand and asked the lady, “Anak mo ba ‘to?” “Is she your daughter?” She answered arrogantly and told the man that I ma her daughter. Then, the man told her that we don’t look alike. When the lady asked him to get lost, the man introduced himself as a police and showed his badge. He carried me and asked me if the lady was my mom and of course, I told him that she is not. He held the lady by her belt and told her that she is arrested for kidnapping. I cried a lot because I thought that I was the one arrested. Then, the police brought the two of us in the basement police station of the mall where I found my mom and brother waiting for me. I hugged my mom so tight and cried out loud. My brother sat beside us with the guilty look on his face. He held my hand all the time. After that incident, even if we are all grown up, my brother holds my hand or arm when we are outside of the house. Perhaps he wouldn’t want to be responsible for anything like that anymore.

I was six years old and I can clearly remember when my sister was born. We were at the house of our grandparents that time since my mom decided have a traditional house birth. I was in a room together with my big brother and cousin and we were told by our aunt to stay there because kids are not allowed to see child birth. So, we stayed there for a couple of minutes and jumped at the bed. I heard my mom shouting so I sneaked out of the room. I hid behind a sofa and saw her give birth. I saw my sister covered with blood and all. I also saw the placenta that comes out after the baby. I was fascinated and didn’t even felt scared or what. The midwife placed the placenta in a wide mouthed container and set it aside. I heard that they will bury it afterwards. I crawled and was about to touch it when my aunt caught me and took me back inside the room. That was the beginning of my liking with bloody and weird stuff.

During elementary, I remembered that I had a huge crush n one of my schoolmates. He is Marco Rico Marciano. I wonder where he is. LOL! Well, it was during that time that I guess I’ve experienced puppy love. I also had a crush with one of my bus mates. He is Rizalito Abad. Cool names huh?! I’ve had a lot of them but I don’t want to recall all their names. LOL!

Then, I also had childhood friends. We transferred in Mandaluyong after my mom gave birth to my sister. I met Honeylie Nisperos, Airaleen Goot, Alexandra Pascua and Lemuel Nisperos. Honey and I have communication. But I lost touch with the others. Well, I guess that’s how it is. The funny thing though is I had a college classmate who is the cousin of Honey and Lemuel. Cool, huh?!

I was hit by a passenger motorcycle when I was in prep class. I was crossing the street to buy iced candy for my mom who is pregnant that time with my fourth sister. I went to the store and found out that the flavor my mom wants is not available that time. So I ran back home to ask her what she wants. I was about just a street away from our gate when I was hit by a motorcycle. I cried out loud that all of the people in the warehouse went out (we live in the compound of my dad’s boss). They opened the main gate so wide that I saw the whole place while lying down the street. The driver decided to make a run for it as my dad carried me in his arms. Then, the next thing I know was the men in the warehouse drove the truck in pursuit of the driver. As I write it down, I am laughing because I find that funny. I was brought to the hospital together with the driver. Then, I was fine. No injuries whatsoever. I just got an abrasion. No big deal.

If I write the whole story of my life in one entry, it will take forever. So, I’ve decided to cut it short and write the next half some other time.

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