How It Is

2 - Continuation: A Time to Forget and Remember

"Oh! That's Granny Smith Apple!"

Who?

"Although I'm not sure. Could be an imitator." He shrugs.

...

I still couldn't recall who she is. Hmm, I don't really know her then.

We entered the library and asked my mom's co-worker who the woman is. She said the woman looks familiar to her but couldn't remember who, so me and Alejo approached the woman. She was still sketching on her book, just like mom says.

"Good day, ma'am." I quietly greeted her

She smiled back at me and asks if we needed anything. I was kinda anxious at first to ask her why she was looking at my art. Alejo took over before I could even respond.

Alejo said, "Hi, ma'am! Okay, she wanted to ask if you were the one looking at her art in Brown Hills Art workshop— and if you are, then why?"

"Alejo, don't pressure señora! You idiot." I told him and nudged him on his arm.

The woman puts on her glasses, closes her book and sits straight.

"Dears, you are looking for the right woman. And I was indeed looking at a creative, abstract of a scenery last night with the shop owner. It didn't have a name so we just assumed it was a beginner's work. Was the work made by one of you, by chance?" Granny Smith Apple said and asked.

I spoke with a nervous voice.

"Um, yes ma'am. I made it." I looked at the ground sweating tons.

She stood up and tucked my hair to the back of my ear. As I looked back up, she was smiling genuinely. She said—

"Well done, dear. Well done. I look forward to seeing more of your art. Your art's uniqueness is brilliant! Please contact me for sessions with me. It's not my job, but I'd like to paint with someone these days." She chuckles.

She hands me a piece of paper with her number written on it. It's like she was waiting to meet me. I am filled with so much emotions right now.

She left the library after she handed me the paper.

I forgot to ask her if she is Granny Smith Apple. Well, best find out when I do truly meet her.

As I go back home everything stopped as I entered the door.

I saw my mom crying.

Before I could even say anything, my knees dropped on the floor without even knowing why.

Mom noticed right away and wiped her tears off as if nothing happened. She greeted me and got back to reading her book.

"Hey hon, so did you get to meet the woman?" that's what she said.

"Yeah, mom." I answered but looking at her worriedly.

I stayed up till night overthinking about what happened this whole day. Mom's state's what most concerns me.

I went back downstairs and took a look at what mom read. It was easy enough to find out which page since she's also forgetful and leaves a bookmark.

As I was skimming through the page, I saw phrase filled with memories and sorrow.

"Welcome home, dad!"

Mom suddenly came down stairs and tears fell down on her cheeks once more.

"Yeah. That's what I've been reading since morning. I wanted to forget about it, but— that was also the time where I made the best choice in life." she said.

Yes. I am her best choice.

I was an orphan. I saw kids everyday going out of the room having schedules of going into 'Mother's' office and never coming back. They were being picked by families. I saw them leave—one by one until the room was empty. Well, it wasn't empty because I was still there. I was there all alone. I was never allowed to play with other kids in other groups. I was 5 and the other kids that weren't picked yet we're 11. They didn't want to play with me and tease me that I'm 'The unchosen one'. The maidens or the workers in the orphanage weren't so nice to me too. They made me feel sorrow everyday.

"Oh, I wonder why they didn't pick you. Oh, I think it's because you're an ugly, brown skinned Filipino. Nobody likes an Asian kid!"

They didn't even pitied me. Everytime they would see me, I'm always crying and have such puffy eyes. And yet, they'll make fun of how ugly I am. I was crying every single night because I'm afraid of the dark. Our room did not have any lights and did not have any cushions or mattresses for me to sleep on. Fortunately, there was a futon. One futon for me. I slept on it for as long as I can remember. That futon was given to me when I was a baby. I always had this vague vision back when someone gave it to me. I couldn't remember her face, I just wondered why she didn't take me in instead.

I began to overthink about that situation everyday. Is it because I'm ugly? I'm Asian? I'm Brown? Maybe they didn't want a baby?

I felt so much sadness thinking that I am a Filipino. I regretted that I am Filipino.

One night, I was desperate so I tried to escape. I was panicking since the maidens we're all in the second room throwing a party for working 18 years in this orphanage. I tried not to make a commotion since It was night time. I struggled to find an escape since it's dark. I was already crying before I knew it. I was fighting my fear of the dark and my emotions that wanted me to escape.

I was a compact kid—meaning I was short and chubby. I was struggling to find an exit. Until I saw where my only source of light was comming from.

It was a window. It was gleaming around the time of 9:00 pm. As I tried to open the high window with a broom, someone knocked on our room's door. It was Mother.

"Hello, dear. Something truly unexpected happened and they want you." Mother said.

I didn't understand at first. I had no clue of what's going on. I wiped off my tears and got ready. I followed Mother to her room.

I saw a man and a woman whose names were Ivan and Rita Persimmon.

As the woman turned her head, she looked familiar and yet a stranger to me.

I realized and recalled who she looked like. I trembled and cried.

The memory that was once vague was as clear as ever
Thinking about it made the young girl shudder
The time comes, and I've been waiting forever
I can finally see you; you gave me my futon and will be my mother.

To be continued...