Kaffeeklatsch

Prologue

                         "Till this moment I never knew myself."

                         Pride and Prejudice, Jane Austen

[ ENMA ]

10. 21. 2016 Friday | Semestral break

The smell of brewed coffee from Starbucks brought me back to that memory again. I was six when I first tried coffee; I mistook it for Milo and added it on my rice.

It was the typhoon season tho; our bubong cried and fought with every gush of the wind. I've loved it since I was a kid. All of it, the smell of mud, the puddle made from every steps, the gloomy sky, the rainbow that follows; the way the frogs sings during the night. And if we're lucky, the storm signal wouldn't be that bad but classes would still be cancelled.

I couldn't go out and play that day tho, I had dengue so my senses were messed up and I had muscle pain all over my body. That was probably the reason for my coffee mishap.

Still, I enjoyed it. The bitter aftertaste of coffee was new to me and it was all I could taste I partially blamed it on the fact that I was sick, so I just added more sugar. I couldn't see much because there was a blackout that night and we only had lamparas, but I remember hearing Nanay shouting "Susmaryosep!", her high pitched voice echoing through that small corners of our dirty kitchen.

Truth is, there was a part of me that wished I could remain like that forever, or you know, just long enough. I wasn't really close with my parents growing up and I'd probably forgotten most of my childhood memories of them, but I'll always remember that night. "Gagaling din si bunso, kailangan lang ng pahinga tsaka gamot..." Nanay held my frail, shivering body and stayed with me that night.

I love my parents, but I've always felt that distance since I was a kid.

Papa was the typical Filipino father, we barely saw him at the house because he was always away —working. We only see him on weekends and holidays. He'd always bring home sack of vegetables. That was my favorite part; Papa was never the talkative type and he wasn't around that much, but he'd always have stories when it comes to vegetables.

Nanay on the other hand, had these big dreams. Had, because she never talk about them now, I just heard from my sisters that she used to tell stories about how she wanted to change the world by teaching. I heard that she used to be a teacher but had to stop so she can take care of us. We weren't exactly rich but we get by. She had me when she was forty years old, but it wasn't planned. As I grew older I realized maybe she had years of regret because of it, that she had to give up teaching because of us. Or maybe, it's just me and my pathetic overthinking brain. Hey nostalgia, of all the time and place, why now?

I found myself again here in Session Road, this chaotic streets filled with noises and traffic. It's weird that I take solace in the fact that I see people I don't recognize. Normally I'd be uncomfortable with crowds of people, that possibility that I might ran into one of my block mates or someone familiar from University. Today it doesn't matter, today I'm just some stranger and everyone else's just background noise...

It's a good thing I already cried last night. I've been crying for the past few days actually and I felt like my tears finally ran out. I failed a major subject and as a result, I'm going to be delayed in college for another year.

I had an entire week to think about it. I cried. I blamed myself. Majority of students from our class failed. Prof X is known to be very brutal and strict. The other classes with different Instructors didn't suffer as much as we did; it was unfair in so many ways. But to blame everything on our Prof is also biased.

I kept replaying it over and over in my head. The entire semester, the cramming, the sleepless nights, the pressure, and the unavoidable procrastination in between. The most painful part is that I know I could've done better.

So yea, it was my fault, I did this.

My parents knew that, and it had to be said. It's been over eight years since the last time I saw them in person, but I still remember every detail on their faces especially when they're upset. It didn't help that the disappointment in Nanay's voice still echoes in my head.

For years I thought if I do better at school, maybe my parents will come back and be proud enough to come and see me. I have five siblings who are all older and better than me, they're natural over achievers. I'm the youngest and I felt like I had to keep up. It was never imposed on me to study, but it was expected.

It took a while but it finally dawned on me that I don't need their approval, I don't have to prove myself anymore.

It's going to be alright from now on.

"Ate, pwede isa pa?" I was too busy drowning myself with past memories when reality hit me, I'm still here in Session Road. I bought some Sundaes for a group of street children a while ago. The oldest of the street children grabbed the hem of my shirt, asking for more. They were all laughing and enjoying their ice cream, just a simple source of happiness.

"Next time ulit, ading. Ubos na e." I showed the kids my empty wallet. And they just laughed and thanked me before leaving with their smiles. I couldn't help it, my own smile escaped before I even realized it.

It was just for a second, but I caught a guy in line looking at me. I don't know how to explain it, but I felt that familiar sadness from his eyes. And I had that sudden urge to comfort him.

Even then, even if I don't know him, I wanted to tell him that he's going to be okay. And maybe it's not just for him, but for me and for everyone else, struggling and drowning in their own silent misery.

I thought about the street children and their simple joy. Why does it seem harder to find happiness when you have more. When you have less, every good thing, no matter how small becomes your happiness. Maybe at the end of the day, all we need is a vanilla cone and probably a little smile from a stranger.

It's going to be okay.