AS THE ONLY child of my Mom -- because my Dad left us (for some flirty issues) when I was just a month old baby -- she gave her whole being to make me happy. I remember, every year after our silent yet happy noche buena's meal, Mom will always urge me to hang a pair of sock in the window; telling me that by midnight, Santa Claus will pass by to fill the socks with candies, chocolates, and coins for being a good boy (which is not a hard thing for me to be). And lo! In the morning I check it, the socks are filled with stuffs.
Not until when I was a second-year high school student, I discovered that it was just Mom who put all those stuffs in the socks. Two things I learned from that discovery: First, Santa Claus don't really exists. Second, Mom lied to me to give me hope and a reason to smile. In that moment, I concluded that Mom is my real-life Santa.
Albeit I already knew the "trick," last year I found myself hanging a pair of sock in the window. I never expected that it will filled with candies, chocolates, and coins. I slept early and didn't celebrate noche buena. But in the morning, my body trembled in terror! The socks was lavishly filled with stuffs. Goosebumps. "H..h-how could it be?" I asked myself. Mom is already dead due to cardiovascular failure five years ago.
BINABASA MO ANG
Introvert's Daydreams (One-Shot Stories)
Short Story"I think - I honestly think that my story is not 100 percent that unique. I think that I'm - just the whole rock star part kind of throws an interesting twist on it." -Nikki Sixx "All writers are liars. They twist events to suit themselves. They mak...
