Mother's Day Post

My dear friend Paul asked me if I could go with him to Ateneo. Being the true-blooded Lasallian that he is, he did not wish to dwell in the enemy’s place by himself. I was just too happy to oblige. Besides, he was to treat me out for lunch and fare! I couldn’t complain. Hehe. In fact, he was doing me a favor. I needed to see big concrete walls and inhale pollution as I had lately been a prisoner of my 30-square-meter mansion.

I have gone to Ateneo from Paranaque before. So, Ateneo is not exactly an unchartered territory.  I thought I was going to be a helpful travel mate. We were to meet at Robinson’s Galleria in Ortigas at 9 in the morning, an hour before the mall opening. Let’s just say he passed through three major thoroughfares  from Cavite, his residence, and the EDSA thoroughfare was one of them, and this was a weekday morning.  Seven years of teaching experience has somewhat taught me patience. So, one hour and a few minutes of waiting was still bearable.  It was a good thing that I was in an area where cellphone signals did not fail me, and where a church was nearby. Church + Cellphone = 1 hour waiting time. Again, I couldn’t complain. Hehe.

I thought we were to take the MRT, but Paul wasn’t a fan of the MRT. Like me, he disliked queuing and crowded trains, but he was the kind with more options: he had taxi money to spare.

Eventually, our trip also consisted of the less-crowded LRT2 train, tricycle  and bus rides until we parted ways. There was nothing spectacular about the commute, really. It was more of the companionship and friendship that he had displayed that made the day bearable and pleasurable albeit the heat and the walk. Days before our meeting, he told me that we could do some catching up like we did before when we were both doing part-time work for the night school years ago. He said that we could make up for lost time as he would be busy in the coming days, and even years.

His mother arrived from the US few days after we met. I am thrilled for him as he is to spend the last days of his secular life with his family before he proceeds to a greater calling away from his folks. He deserves all the time to be with his favorite people. His mother, I suppose, couldn’t ask for anything more.

He added that his mother would be able to witness big transitions in his life as he takes that step closer to religious life. His mother must be very proud and supportive. All mothers are, I think. Pride and support can be seen from our mothers when we show them that we can make sound grown-up decisions in our life.

My mother is no exception. She is finally reading my blog after that “Inquirer Young Blood” article.  She has been showing off the clipped Inquirer article to her friends.

There is no joy greater than honoring your parents. It feels great, I tell you.

This post is in celebration of “Mother’s Day, ” which I intend to celebrate every day of my life. I would also like to extend my mothers’ day greetings to the anyone who has given birth particularly to the mother-readers of this blog ( I only know one: Sheryl Dionio). Hehe. Thank you!

Helpless

I saw an old woman commute today. "Kay taas naman nito," she said as she struggled to bring herself up the jeep, together with four plastic grocery bags, all were filled and appeared heavy. She requested if she could take the seat nearest the entrance; the passengers including myself obliged. Her wrinkly hands groped for some coins inside her bag. She placed her fare on someone else's hand and shouted, "Senior, ma." Three minutes passed and her four-peso change did not reach her. In faltering voice, she said, "'Yung sampu, senior 'yon. D'yan lang sa tabi." Her voice was inaudible to the driver; the other passengers helped relay the message. When she finally got her change back, she studied the four coins with great scrutiny. When she finally reached her destination at an intersection, she said, "Para sa tabi lang ho." This  time the driver heard her but went on driving. "Go na po. Sa kabila na lang." It was twenty meters from where she was to get off. She secured all her stuff and slowly alighted from the jeep. "Pakibilisan po, " said the driver as he was getting a honk from a sedan behind him. The poor woman did as instructed although there was some difficulty. As she was left on the road, only then did I get to see that her back was bent and her body frail. The last image before losing sight of her was that of an old woman bearing a heavy load waiting for the busy street to clear.

I thought of my mother when this was taking place. Episodes like this one never fail to reinforce my desire to help my parents in their old age. I always had this idea that life after retirement should be a bliss. That old woman shouldn't be experiencing whatever she was experiencing, but there really was no way of changing that. Sad but true, life is different for everybody. I cannot feel pity for the her because taking pity on someone does not help. I'd rather feel nothing than pity her and do nothing.

At work, I examine my life based on what has transpired. I realized that every brand new day is a day closer to old age. More than ever I feel the need to reassess my life and work for something better. No better time than now to act for my future. I must do something about my state. The choices I make now will determine the life my parents and I will have, but more importantly mine.