Just Passing By

Late afternoon walks have become a ritual for my two kids and me. It started out as my exercise routine to shake off the pounds. Then the kids started going with me to keep me company. We’d usually venture out just as the sun starts to set, which in the summer is not until after 8 in the evening. Nikki would don her iPod as we slip out the door. I’ll ask Goji where we’ll go this time. His standard answer will be where our feet will take us. Our feet usually take us through the most shaded parts of the neighborhood as we try to dodge the sun and take refuge in the trees’ shadows.

We’d play name games such as “name-five-things”, or we’ll think of better names for the streets we pass or the dogs that happen to be out in the front yards. Then we’ll peek into garages and decide what the inside of the house would probably look like. We’ve even come up with names for water sprinklers – they’re either rock stars, ballet dancers, sad little weepers, or just normal (in other words – boring).

Sometimes, occasions present themselves for a chance to teach the kids about stuff they may not learn in school. I’ve taught Goji how, someday, when he’s older, he needs to stay on the side of the road closest to traffic. That’s how gentlemen are when in the company of women and children. Then I showed him how he should hold his girlfriend’s hand and how that’s different from holding Mommy’s hand. I also remind them over and over again about road safety and how they should watch for cars backing out of driveways. At times, we don’t even talk at all. We just share this companionable silence as we get lost in our own thoughts.

Someday, they’ll have kids of their own. I hope that they too will take the time to be with their children, no matter how tired they are after work, to find amusement in little things and seize those moments when they can learn from each other.

The heat in the car was stifling. We have been going through a heat wave this past week and today’s daytime high was supposed to be another record breaker. Still, I decided I was going to spend my lunch break in my car just to get away from my desk for a while. So I rolled all the windows down and placed the sun shade squarely in the windshield. I seated me in the driver’s seat for that was the only spot that the sun didn’t hit any part of my body. Then I settled down to have private conversations with my favorite essayist and modern philosopher – Robert Fulghum.

As I read through a collection of his essays, a light bulb went off: Now I know why I can’t seem to make any real friends from work. You see, since I joined this company I work with now, I’ve beaten myself up for not being able to make really close friends. Sure we’d exchange pleasantries in the kitchen each morning as each of us makes our own morning beverages. Some would ask
if I ever get tired of green tea. Then I’ll ask them about their weekend or they’d
ask me how’s-it-going. But that’s as far as we go and it starts all over again
the next morning like a ritual. Have I taken my suplada-attitude to a higher
level? I hope not. Have I regressed to the shy little girl I once was? Maybe. Still,
it doesn’t make sense why I have not really clicked with any of my colleagues
here. That’s when Fulghum, in one of his “fuljumisms”, gave me an answer. It was because even though I spoke very good English, and they have gotten used to my “cute little accent”, we did not share the same cultural experiences. Therefore when we think we’re communicating, the reality is, we just assume we are.

For example, why would this girl from accounting spent all her lunch breaks everyday last week getting a tan from a nearby tanning salon before her boyfriend’s parents came to town? Or why this guy from IT was so excited about going camping in the mountains where bears lurk. Or why half of
the people were gone during the July 4^th week. Or how last year, everyone was so wired about Thanksgiving but couldn’t care less about Christmas. Lastly, why does every stranger ask “how-are-you” and never wait for the answer?

I know I will always be an outsider looking in for even when I will come to understand, I don’t think I’ll ever share in these traditions. I will never go out of my way to be darker than I already am, go gaga over parties and fireworks in July, or eat a turkey with cranberry sauce for Thanksgiving. There will always be that invisible wall of cultural divide.

Oh, and one more thing, now I know why I’ve held back on my usual  “pamimintas” that my friends found hilarious. People here will not find it funny and I could get sued for it. And that’s not going to be funny at all.

I am certain that there is no other more negative person in the world than me.

It’s less than a month before my family and I go home for a much anticipated vacation to Pinas. Since January, it was all I could think about. I even bought our tickets as early as February so I’ll have an exact time and date to look forward to. The months came and went in a blur. I didn’t care much about what went on. I was just focused on August to arrive so I can go home. As I was packing my balikbayan boxes and going looney trying to fit all my stuff, it hit me: What happens after the vacation is over and I had to come back here?

So my “nega me” has reared it’s pessimistic head once again. Instead of imagining the warm welcome hugs of a homecoming, I can only think of the tearful goodbyes. I can already feel my heart getting heavy from the thought of leaving home again. I do not relish the idea of spending yet another Christmas away from family and friends, of going back to work and trying to survive the office politics I never seem to get, of taking lunch breaks alone, of being endlessly cold during another dreadful winter, and of feeling unbearably lonely in a foreign land that I can’t embrace as my own.

Seeing my thoughts in writing as I do now, I realize how silly I am for being such a pessimistic. I’m spoiling my own vacation before it even started. So I turn to a printed copy of Desiderata that I posted prominently in my office cube and read a passage to calm me: “But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings.”

These are dark imaginings indeed. I know they will come but not before I enjoy 19 days of pure joy of being surrounded with laughter and love, while eating sisig, crispy pata, tibok-tibok gatas at Susie’s, halo-halo, Didi’s pizza and fishball. 26 days to go and counting down…