Just Passing By

What is it about women and shopping? If I had to live my life all over again, I think I will become a personal shopper. It will be awesome if I can call the mall my workplace. Then I can rave about my job because I enjoy what I do.

What is there not to like? You’re spending other people’s money. You get to stay in the mall for as long as you like without feeling guilty because you can always say “you’re working”. And you get to buy stuff for other people which are simply fab because you got to choose the color, style and material. Then at the end of the day, you feel like you did your clients a great service because you helped them do a chore that they dread and stretched the value for their money because you scoured the whole mall for clearance items.

Ahhh, if only I can do that. Right now, though, I just allow myself the luxury of window shopping at lunch time to break the day. I found that people at my work just go their separate ways at lunch. I’m tired of spending my lunch hour at my desk or at the break room so I got into the habit of going out for lunch, not exactly to eat.

When I drive myself to work every morning, I try to plan my day ahead. My conversation with myself will go something like this:

Me: O

k, I went to Kohl’s yesterday. Didn’t find anything that caught my eye. I wonder which stores are having a sale today?

Other me: There was a pretty sweater at Kohl’s but you didn’t buy it because it was still more than $15.

Me: I’ll wait til they have a spring sale. I bet they’ll cut the price to half.

Other me: So do you want to go to The Summit today? You still have to buy Joey those Old Navy flip flops she asked you to buy.

Me: Oh yeah, and Tuchie wants a pair too. But The Summit stores are really pricey. I’ll have to go to Old Navy right away and ignore the other shops.

Other me: Yey! So it’s settled then, The Summit for lunch.

Me: Ok. But remind me to buy flip flops and nothing else. I’m saving for my trip home to Pinas.

Other me: Would you pass up if there are really good bargains? You still have to buy pasalubong.

Me: Maybe…
And then the song on the radio will stream into my consciousness. I sing along. It doesn’t matter if my singing voice sucks. There’s nobody but me to hear it. “I’m not ready to make nice…”

I have a mole on my left foot. It’s a big flat one right smacked in the middle of my sole. In the old times, the elders will cluck their tongues and shake their heads as if this portends of something catastrophic, maybe a curse even. In Kapampangan, they will brand this person “palibut”  which loosely means wanderer.

OK, so I am palibut, tsk, tsk, tsk. I’ve made it my life goal to cover at least half the world before I die. This coming weekend, my family and I are going on a roadtrip to San Francisco. We’ve been there once but I don’t mind going back. Even as I write this, I can smell and taste the authentic Chinese soup served hot at this tiny store in the middle of Chinatown. It’ll be fun to walk up and down the crooked streets that the city is famous for. Then there’s the unmistakable energy that pulses through the city that sweeps you into this holiday, carefree mood.

More than the destination, getting ready for the trip already makes for half the fun. The idea of packing clothes and snacks makes me happy. Even the thought of waking up at the crack of dawn to hit the road early makes me giddy as it always had when I was a little girl. It’s funny that my kids feel about all these the same way. As soon as they learned that we were going, they went to google the weekend weather forecast in San Francisco so they can decide what to bring. It turns out it still wouldn’t be warm enough for short sleeved shirts and shorts. No matter. It would be nice to get away from Reno even it’s just for a while. Away from the desert to be near water and humidity.

That’s another thing I like about short trips. It allows you to escape the humdrum of daily life without the hassle of air travel. Every mile you cover is a mile away from the stresses of work and the trappings of daily life. And as you drive along scenic highways, you gain a renewed appreciation for nature and all of God’s gifts.

Haaay, that’s the introspective me speaking. Heck, who am I kidding, I’m just here for the ride and the snacks and the occasional photo op!

Tita Girlie would often send me religious and inspirational emails everyday. But there was one which went straight to my heart; maybe because of the worries that were weighing me down at the moment. This email reminded me that whatever situation I’m in, all I have to do is ask God similar to the Prayer of Jabez: “… Oh that You would bless me…” And with all the trust of a little child, lift my worries up to Him.

God and the Spider

During World War II, a US marine was separated from his unit on a Pacific island. The fighting had been intense, and in the smoke and the crossfire he had lost touch with his comrades.

Alone in the jungle, he could hear enemy soldiers coming in his direction. Scrambling for cover, he found his way up a high ridge to several small caves in the rock. Quickly he crawled inside one of the caves. Although safe for the moment, he realized that once the enemy soldiers looking for him swept up the ridge, they would quickly search all the caves and he would be killed.

As he waited, he prayed, “Lord, if it be your will, please protect me. Whatever your will though, I love you and trust you. Amen.”

After praying, he lay quietly listening to the enemy begin to draw close. He thought, “Well, I guess the Lord isn’t going to help me out of this one.” Then he saw a spider begin to build a web over the front of his cave.

As he watched, listening to the enemy searching for him all the while, the spider layered strand after strand of web across the opening of the cave.

“Hah, he thought. “What I need is a brick wall and what the Lord has sent me is a spider web. God does have a sense of humor.”

As the enemy drew closer he watched from the darkness of his hideout and could see them searching one cave after another. As they came to his, he got ready to make his last stand. To his amazement, however, after glancing in the direction of his cave, they moved on. Suddenly, he realized that with the spider web over the entrance, his cave looked as if no one had entered for quite a while.

“Lord, forgive me,” prayed the young man. “I had forgotten that in You, a spider’s web is stronger than a brick wall.”

(Dadey continued.)

I think it was in college when I wrote Dadey a letter telling him that as a little girl, I thought he was Superman. He can do anything and fix anything. When something was broken around the house, he fixed it so that it was better than new. When I scrape my knee after a fall, he’d wash it and blow on it when he puts betadine so that it doesn’t hurt as bad. He would often convince me that having a band-aid was cool. He was also very strong. He would walk with me and Arcee riding on either foot. And boy did his spanking hurt!

Then I grew up and he wasn’t as tall and imposing as I thought. Little by little, I could see that he had weaknesses too. I would run to him with my problems and he couldn’t fix them for me anymore. (When you’re an adolescent, you’d think that you’re the only one with the gravest, biggest problems.) All he could do was be there for me  but I needed to solve them myself. Besides, he was growing old and not as strong as he used to be. When he gets sick, he’ll be sick for days.

Fast forward to present. Dad’s been retired for more than a decade now. He dabbled with his own business for a while but folded up when it started losing money. Now he stays home most of the time, watching tv, when he’s not tinkering with his bikes in his shop in the back or not working in his farm in Magalang. He often tells me how helpless and useless he feels, now that he can’t provide for the family anymore.

But I wanted him to know this: Dadey. you’re not useless at all. You are there, providing all the support we need as we go through the lives you prepared for us. You’re always a phone call or a text message away, making us see the lighter side of things; reminding us we’re big enough, strong enough to get through the rough times. I still am convinced that you’re a superman because even when all your superpowers have gone, and you can no longer shield me from the harsh realities of life, you’re still there beside me, holding my hand. And life is not so bad after all.

Dadey always said, “you’ll never outgrow your need for your parents”. He was referring to himself when he says that. He’d tell me that he would still go to his parents’ tombstone when he needs to sort things out. I agree with him. I don’t think I will ever outgrow my need for my Dadey.

Do you ever dream of your parents dying? I dreamt a lot  about my Dad dying when I was a little girl. Not as often now that I’m a grown-up but I still have them once in a while. Then and even now, I’d wake up crying.

For the good part of the day after the nightmare, I’d dwell on my thoughts about my Dad and what to say in his eulogy. I know, I’m morbid but indulge me. I just drove through icy roads and blowing snow this morning and thankful that I made it to work and back.

Anyway, back to the eulogy. I try to outline what I’ll have to say and to my dismay, I start crying again because I regret the fact that I wish he could hear all the good things I say about him. So instead of waiting for the eulogy, I now tell him what I feel about him and how much he means to me every chance I get, which is basically every two weeks when I call home. And although I doubt it if he will read this posting on my blog, I’ll write this for him anyway.

I remember a time when my Mama went back to school to get her degree. Dadey would come home from work and take charge as soon as Mama leaves for school. He’ll give Arcee, Dingdang, Boybee and me — long, fun baths. We’d make horns on our heads and boobs out of soap bubbles, then he’ll scrub our skin until we felt sore. Then he’d feed us dinner. When we had fish, he’ll take out the fishbones and arrange the meat all around the plate. He made it fun to eat. During frequent brownouts during a storm, he’d send me and Arcee to the neighborhood store to buy Peewee and Cheez-It chips and we’ll camp in the living room while he tells horror stories. He always said they were true stories, even including my aunts and uncles and citing locales like the river downtown and the big trees in their backyard where he grew up. He made the stories seem so real that we would be left scared to our wits end that we”d end up sleeping in one room. He just made life so good for all of us. We never felt deprived of anything that it came as a surprise to know that we were not rich. Really.

I always thought we were. When I was in Kindergarten, my teacher asked the class who among us were rich. I didn’t hesitate to raise my hand. I got everything I needed. Didn’t that make me rich? Looking back, I give credit to my Dadey for making me feel that way. He’s been a good provider, in every sense of the word.

(to be continued)