Just Passing By

Today I received a text message from my brother Boybee. Part of the message read: “I wish we can just press rewind and go back to the days when it’s just the seven of us living the perfect life.” He was probably having a drama moment and said that I was missed. For someone like me who’s been away from family for almost three years, that little message set off a torrent of tears.

Don’t get me wrong. There is nothing in this world I won’t give up for my kids but I admit that I still have a lot of growing up to do myself and miss being my parent’s baby. When you’re battling homesickness, work challenges and a myriad of emotions at the same time, anyone will regress to that time in their lives when life was simpler and safer. If you ask me, this is what I want:

I want to be 7 again and play with my neighbors in the vacant lot. Even though I had to bring Boybee who was hardly walking then, I managed to play tag and hide and seek or climb trees because I’ve found a perfect place to keep Boybee where he could be safe - inside two old tires piled on top of each other so he can’t go anywhere. Then Mama would scold me when we get home because he’d be so filthy. I’d feel sorry for a while but I’d do it all over again the next day.

I want to be 8 and stay awake until midnight because I’m excited for the first day of school tomorrow. I’d feel the bunk bed move as Arcee shifts below and I’d ask if he were still awake. Then we’d agree to turn on the lights and sniff our brand new shoes and look inside our school bags just to make sure our pencils and papers and crayons were still there.

I want to be 9 and go home from school only to find my beloved rag doll, I named Dolly, missing. After I turned the room upside down, Dingdang will fess up that she buried Dolly in the backyard to get back at me after our quarrel that morning. Not that I want to have my poor Dolly buried again, but the chance to have those silly quarrels with Dingdang again because it means she’s right here, close to me.

I want to be 12 again and look at baby Tuchie’s face for the first time after she came home from the hospital. I sneaked in Mama and Daddy’s room and just stared forever at this little baby who they said was my sister. I think I considered myself a mommy to her and missed her the most when I went off to college. She was always the first one to greet me at the gate when I came home for the weekend. Being the chatterbox that she is, she’d manage to fill me in on what I missed even before we reach the front door.

I want to have dinner with just the seven of us again, to share Mama’s homemade fried chicken meal. I wouldn’t mind if we could only have one piece each because we weren’t rich. I would still think that it’s the most fabulous meal ever. Then when the day is over, we’ll all go upstairs and sleep soundly under the same roof. All 7 of us, because we were family, and life was perfect.