When We Were Young

When.Where.How

The first time I fell in love with her, was before I even knew what "falling in love" meant.

I was 13 years old and she just turned 12. Our parents were old friends. Her mom is my godmother and my dad is her godfather. We did not exactly grew up together, nor were we ever friends. But I remember it was summer when I first fell in love with her. Take note, I didn't know that it was already "falling in love" then.

They moved to the same village where my family lived a week after New Year. We weren't exactly neighbors, but we went to the same church within the village. I get to see her every Sunday a few pews away from where my family sat. I get to see her closer after the service since our parents would gather outside the church and chat. She always kept her head down. Or she'd be busy looking after her younger siblings- two naughty boys and one cute baby girl. She didn't seem shy. But, for sure, she didn't know how beautiful she is.

Summer came and my parents decided to sign me up to church service and Sunday school. It was a great shift from my usual sporty summers. I wanted to complain, but forgot about it the very moment I entered the hall and saw her sitting quietly among chit-chatting teens and tweens. I remember she gazed at me for a few good seconds before looking away. I hurriedly sat beside her.

I sat beside her but never glanced at her once. I was nervous for some reason I couldn't figure out then. The day went by so fast that I barely remember how I got signed up to train as  an altar boy. She signed up with the choir.

My training coincided with her choir practice every other day. I would watch her from where I stood while I was supposed to be listening to instruction given to us as altar boys. She plays the guitar. The piano. A little beat box. I also see her holding music sheets. I guess she really is musically gifted. I couldn't wait to hear her sing during Sunday service.

Being excited to hear her sing, I got distracted and had to be nudged by the other altar boy to ring the bell in my hand. She looked at me from across the altar and smiled. My knees trembled. My stomach tightened. I felt a little nauseous. I thought it was because I was standing for too long.

After church duties and altar training, I would sit at the balcony of the church and just watch whatever it is that's going on below. I saw her a few times crawling under the altar when no one's around. She'd go there with music sheets and a pencil at hand. She would come out of there after a few minutes, then head to where the keyboard is set up and play our service songs in a different way. I didn't get it at first. But after a few times I watched and heard her play, I've come to realize that she was arranging music under the altar table.

One time I got so caught up in watching her and her routine that I just went for it. I lifted the white cloth that covered the altar and let her know that I see her. I see her. Maybe she wanted to keep herself hidden. Maybe she wanted to hide her music- of how good she is at it at 12. But I already saw her. And there was no going back from it.

Surprise was in her eyes. She didn't move, nor said anything. So, I crawled inside her little fort of an altar. I sat across her with very little space between us. She just stared.

"Bakit dito ka gumagawa ng areglo?" I asked.

She looked down, looking embarassed. "I can't concentrate pag masyadong malaki yung space. Parang hindi ko naririnig yung sarili ko."

"It's the same space you sing in during service."

"Iba pag may mga tao, iba pag mag isa lang ako."

"Hindi ka naman mag-isa eh... Lagi kita pinapanood from the balcony."

She covered her face, "Nakakahiya..."